Waterbury evening Democrat., 1888-01-13
ROGER IAROQUE.
Adapted and Translated from the French
 of Jules Mary.
BY OLIVE HARPER.

What have l done! Oh, my God, Wlat have done! I have let him love me; love him. For ono little minute forgot that love and marriage are not for mel'
 All that day she battled with her heart, and poor child, when it's own pain had dead sned her other senses, she thought she had won.
 She crept into the house and up to her room unobserved, and when her father came to see why she did not come down to dinner that woman's blessed boon in the way of ex- cuse, a headache, pleaded for her.
 The next day Mime. De Noirville came to see them just as they had returned from drive. Julia had come with the intention of pleading Raymond's cause in his demand for the hand of Mile. Forney. Raymond had driven her over, but had not attempted to enter the house; but as M. Forney stepped forward to receive Mime. De Noirville, Ray mond sprang to the side of Suzanne, who re- ceived him with coldness so marked that he drew back in alarm. His eyes questioned her in vain for the cause of this sudden change. He thought:
 'She must have awakened and resented such liberty. What shall doa"
 "Oh, mademoiselle, pardon me, I implore."
 e1n what have you offended that you ask my pardons' said she, more coldly and haughtily, if possible, than before.
 "I thought feared-that was unhappy enough to have in some way vexed you"
 "You are mistaken" i" said she, lowing, and leaving him speeches..
 Raymond managed to make a sign to his mother, begging her to say nothing to M. Forney on the subject so near his heart, and their conversation was therefore on ordinary topics, and they soon took their leave.
 It would be too much to say that Suzanne regretted her severity, but it is very sure that her heart ached heavily all the time, and she lost color and spirit, so much so as to seri- ously disquiet her father, who feared that she was i'll, but she declared herself perfectly we'll
 "Well, do you feel contented heres Would you like to go away, to Paris or any other place? You have only to say what you wish, you know, my child, to find mo willing'
 "I am perfectly happy here, father" she replied, "and like this quiet, peaceful exist ence far better than I would gayer place. So say no more, pray you"
 The real reason that she did not wish to leave her present home for Paris was that she knew that Raymond's vacation ended very soon, and that he then would be near her there, following her at every turn, and here she would be free
 Summer passed all too swiftly, and autumn came with it's gorgeous beauty of coloring and its wealth of harvest, and October had nearly gone. Already the nights werc cold and fros. y, though the days were bright and sunny, and Suzanne wandered about their park and even into the forest beyond. as if she Hunted her lost peace of mind. Her young heart was heavy with unshed tears, but thorgh she knew she loved Raymond, she had been through such awful and strange ex- periences that she was matured far beyond hnr l,an {l,o past taught her that love or marriage with an honorable man with an untarnished name was not for her; that fate had ordered that her life should be passed alone. One day as she sat on a fallen tree absorbed in these thoughts, her tears fell unheeded upon her cheeks for her withered youth and lonely future which fathers love could now never fill, and she thought she heard 6 step behind her.
 She knew so well who was there that she did not even turn her head, but by supreme effort of will conquered her agitation and her l face wore mask of scorn and naughty dis | dain as Raymond came in front of her, and 1 joining his hands exclaimed: 1 Suzanne, Suzanne, have pity on mel' "You can have nothing to say to me that ! wish to hear. beg, therefore, you will per- l init me to pass"
 "No; this life is intolerablel You treat me as if I were tho veriest wretch on earth. It is not so that an honest mans love should be l tranpled upon."
 "l do not know what you refer to. I simply 1 find your attentions distasteful, and 1 wish to make you so understand. As you seem to be unable to understand actions am obliged te l tell you SO"
 She wished to pass him, but he stepped i1 front of her, saying:
 "You shall not go until you have heard me-"
 "Your action makes me but the more posi- tive that have done right in refusing tt speak to you. Since you threaten me, re l gard you as a coward"
 "So be it. am a coward" l She recoiled little before Raymond, wh' 1 seemed no longer to be able to control him self But behind her was the ravine, with it ! abrupt and stony bank, so that she could no escape him that way without danger, and sh turned to him, saying angrily:
 If you make one step toward me shal throw myself down."
 Suzanne, pity you"
 "Me! You pity me?'
 "Yes, for you must love me well to Urea me in this manner. You must have som reason why you do not want-not dare ac cept my love, and thus try to hide your own l feel now what I have never dared hope you do love me-"
 'You are utterly mistaken; do not lov you. Inever did, never shall, and your lov is an offense to me-"
 Suzanne! you are ssFy hard, very crue Listen. Impose upon me any condition yo think necessary. However hard it may be will accept"
 Still no answer.
 '"Then there remains but one thing for m. and that is death. I cannot live withor hope, without your love. Adieu, Suzanne May you be happy"
 And the young man, ill a half demente condition, raised the muzzle of his gun an placed it against his heart, both barre loaded, and before Suzanne could spea raised his boot to strike the triggers. Suzan1 sprang forward involuntarily and caught u nuzzle. turning it slightly, so that the tN charges wllizzed by her head and the powd' burned her dress.
 Her heart melted. One second more ar he would have been lying Q corpse at her fee and, forgetting all that had seemed to h. such potent reasoning, she sank to her form
 seat, powerless and faint.
 CHAPTER XIII.
 1Raymond said Snzannes in a feebl