Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1888-05-10

| school face and mien 10 meet the others 81
the luncheon-table without betFaying that
she was IN any trouble. The mask must
still be worn, however bitter the suffering
| that it hid!
perhaps had better have gone with
/ themw she said. Zone cannot. when
alone, keep from thinking. But l could
not be with him-no, could rot! I must
read-anything to lessen this mad beating
| in my brain, this sickening pain at my
heart-or / shall go madr'
She left the room. and went down to the
library She would be safe from intrusion
there; she knew Lady Elinor and Mrs.
Langley never went to the library, and
everyone else was out.
The great house seemed vers silent as
the girl fitted down the broad stairs: but
that was better than merry laughter and
cheerful voices. She passed into the IL
brary, a room that Beauregard loved. and
which she would nave loved for that rea-
son alone, if there had been none other.
This would be her last visit here, she
said to herself, as she moved slowly round
the room, touching the books tenderly now
and then. She would see it again often, in
her waking thoughts and in her dreams,
but never as now.
The burning tears that gathered in her
eyes warned her, she took up book at
random, and went and sat down in a low
chair, laying the book on her knee, and
opening it mechanically. What was it?
A copy Of Schiller'S ''Piccolomini." Va
lerie turned to the fy-leaf, and saw, in
Beauregard's free, bold hand, the name,
nd
down at that name till it became blurred
and dim; then she kissed it reyerently, and
began with trembling fingers to turn the
pages. 1t was something to touch what he
had often touched
Ali What was that? Who was that?
The girl started like a guilty thing hear
ing the door-handle move. One of the SER
wants, perhaps, flashed across her as she
looked toward the door, or had Mrs. Lang
ley been speaking to Lady Elinor, and Lady
Eiinor-
But Valerie got no farther than that, for
the door opened, and she saw the tall fig
ure of Max Beauregard
The girl drew one breath and stopped;
her heart seemed to cease beating. If one
word would have snatched her from the
presence so ineffably dreaded she could
not utter it. She was for moment para
lyzed.
Beauregard closed the door, and came
forward, and as he did so Valerie rallied.
What strength came to her she never
knew; it must have been the sheer terror
of self-betrayal, yet her voice did not sound
to her like her own; she looked at him, but
not at his face.
"Col. Beauregardr' she said; 'I thought
you were out with the otnersp'
NO." he said, pausing. 81 told them I
could not go; but thought then that you
were going. Angela told me afterward
that you had stayed at home"
Something suppressed and constrained
in his voice made Valerie's heart turn sick
with fear; it crossed her, too, that he had
heard her enter the library, and had
sought her. Why did he do this? It was
cruel!
Still not daring to look at his face, she
laid her book on a chair near, and rose.
YES" she said, trying to speak careless
ly, but hardly succeeding. II was busy,
and -
Are you going to run away from me, is
that it?'' interrupted Beauregard, laying a
light touch on her arm. Don't do that
yet, Fairy Queen. heard you enter here,
and | came-to say-to say goodyear
He took her hand in his, folding it close
ly in both his own, looking down on the
lovely face with such agony in his dark
eyes, that if she had seen it she must have
lost utterly the self-control that his cling
ing clasp, the pain in his voice, had we'll
nigh robbed her of,
''It is hard" he said, and his lips paled
even as he spoke, "to say goodbye; and it
may be perhaps years before we meet
againr'
II suppose it may be!'' the girl said, in a
mechanical, passionless way; cor perhaps
never-that would be bestr'
'Why do you say that, VaIerie?" said
the soldier, almost sternly. ''Tell me one
thing: you are not going to give yourself to
Aston LaWford?"
Mop she said, suddenly wrenching her
hand from his hold. "Ihaye not sunk quite
so low as thati''
She made a quick step forward to go,
but Beauregard did not move.
"Valerier' he said, under his breath,
forgive me-forgive me!''
The girl stopped, and half turned toward
him.
81 have nothing to forgiven she said,
chOkingly. "YeEi have always been kind
to me, Colonel Beauregard; let me thank
you now-and go!'
Still he did not move-did not speak-his
face was ashen white; he stroye hand to
hand, foot to foot, with the passion that
was burning in his veins like molten fire
melting even his iron will as iron is melted
in the furnace.
Valerie's lips moved; there was no sound,
b1,+ ha bo+ Na1 no lie
"Good-bye;" and it needed only this AS
she turned away once more Max Beaure-
gard flung himself before her and caught
her in his arms, locking her to his breast
in an embrace that left her powerless, even
if she had had the will to strive with him,
covering her face with passionate, despair
ing kisses. He had cOurted temptation,
and it had mastered him. In those wild
moments everything was forgotten, swept
away like gossamer, everything but the
love he bore this girl biotting out the sin
he had told her could never be blotted out;
wrecking the stern resolve to trample his
heart in the dust, rather than to accept
love less pure than he gave. Once before
he had tasted the JOY, the anguish, OF hold
ing to his breast the woman he so worship
ped; but then she was unconscious; she
knew not that his lips touched her brow,
her heart gave no answering throb to his;
but now his kisses were pressed not on her
brow only, but on warm lips that trembled
under his; it was no senseless form he held
to him, but one that quivered with the full
consciousness of the love enfolding it.
Yes, for those few moments even honor
was forgotten-honor that should have
stood between Max Beauregard and the
woman he loved, yet would not make his
wife; it was the one irresistible impulse:
q have gone mad-I love your and terri
BILE, when it came, was the shock OF the