Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1889-03-17
CHAPTER VI.
A PRISONER OF RoCHoN

A PRISONER OF RoCHoN.
It will be we'll for the reader, who would
| like to realize in the best degree the events
sketched in the foregoing chapters, to re-
member that it is not of to- day that we are
writing; for although the woods are still
wild and of luxuriant growth around Bay
| st. Louis, and although comparatively
slight changes have come over the physical
| features of the dreamy landscapes there
| about, there has been great betterment, of
course, even among the most degraded of
the population. In fact nowhere in the
world will you find to-day more refined,
more hospitable or a more lovable people
than those of the Bay St. Louis region,
once the home of buccaneers, pirates, SNUG
| glers and wreckers. We move rapidly in
America. 1t is but lapse offs or so years
! since old Rochin was king of the Bay Coast.
| Now the beautiful bluffs overlooking the
gray-green water are the sites OF am
pie and luxurious cottages, the
summer homes of rich people from
! New Orleans, or the winter res
licences of Northern folk who come from
Chicago, st. LoBis and Cincinnati to avoid
the bitter weather of those cold cities, and
to enjoy the balmy Caribbean breezes and
the never-ending procession of flowers. The
| whole gulf coast, from Mobile to the Rigo-
lets, is indeed another Riviera, so far as
climate is concerned, a region basking in
the most grateful sunshine and perfumes,
blown over by salt gulf winds, and by resin
Gus winds from the far-reaching pine woods,
high, dry, salubrious, very Eden for the
| tired and the sick in winter. and luxuri-
Gus bathing place and resting place for CITY,
weary people in summer. A broad, beauti-
full road, paved with shells as white as
snow. runs for a dozen miles along the
airy bluffs between broad-armed oaks and
cedars on one hand and hedges of oleander
and Cherokee roses on the other. Eastward
some ten miles distant you see Ship Island,
famous in the military history of the coast,
while far southwark lies the curious cres-
cent of the Chandeliers. 1t is all very
sweet and quiet and peaceful now; but at
the time we write it was as wild nook as
might be found in that widest part of our
country.
orton opened his eyes, as if from heavy,
bewildering sleep, and, looking languidly
around, saw some curious old pictures on
the walls of the room in the middle of which,
on bed whose heavy mahogany posts were
hung with filmy curtains, he lay weak and
helpless. 1t was night, and two or three
myrtle wax candles filed the air with pc
culIar, keen, fine fragrance and with a soft
Pickering, yellowish light. Near the bed a
negro boy was doing in a chair. A bit of
almost purple sky, studded with fariug
stars, was visible through broad, many
mullioned window. The deep booming
swish of the bay was blended with the rustic
of long Spanish moss and satin-like magno-
liza leaves. A mockingbird in tree beside
another window was lazily piping dreamy
nocturne. Orton was aware that his head
was bound up and his limbs and body
! bandaged. He was stiff and numb, with a
sinking sensation in his breast He could
not think clearly; the mere effort exhausted
him and he slept. The last thing his closing
eyes saw, was a small shapely glove living
on table beside phial and spoon. From
some opening barely perceptible current
of cool and soothing air was creeping over
him. In the corner of the room a tall old
clock was ticking with loud measured
strokes. When he again opened his eyes it
was mid-morning of a fine clear day with a
good sailing breeze pouring around the
house and rattling the windows and the
first object that met his eyes was the supple,
symmetrical form of Felicie Rochon stand
ing near his bed. Her back was turned to
him and she was arranging large vase of
flowers on the table, her small taper hands
moving gracefully and flashing the dia-
monds and rubies of some exquisite
rings. She wore a simple pale gray
morning dress, (of some costly materially
touched with dull red here and there. Her
abundant yellowish brown hair was fluffy
with hall ringlets in front and done into a
large knot low upon her neck behind,
where shone tall jeweled comb of gold.
He could see the fnerest sketch of her side
face with its delicate complexion and soft
curves, just the hint of nearly perfect
Greek profile, with forehead trife high
and chin possibly little too heavy, but
beautiful and magnetieally tender and sweet
in every line.
Orton felt no pain now; a sense of extreme
weakness and lassitude, however, forbade
any effort to move or speak. He lay quite
still, content to gaze with half open eyes
upon the fair vision before him; nor did he
speculate upon the chances that had brought
him here. That he was in a room of the
Rochon mansion he could have no doubt.
Slowly enough recollection of the dreadful
combat at Garcin's came into his mind, and
then he realized that he was old Rcchon's
captive. His first thought was of his
sketches and the portrait of Lalie Garcin,
then he remembered how he had Carried
them out into the garden before the fire
began. While this was fitting through his
brain he was watching Mile. Rochon ar
range the flowers. Presently by a consider
able effort he said, in q half whisper:
"Mademoiselle Rochon.'
She turned quickly and looked at him
with bright, startled, inquiring smile on
her face. She did not appear so tall
when she stood thus, and indeed she really
was but little above medium height, though
there was certain lofty stateliness in her
bearing.
She placed her finger on her lip to signify
that he must not speak, and shook her head
for the same purpose. Coming promptly to
his bedside she bent her head low and
said:
Monsieur, you must not say one word;
you must be very quiet, very" A slight
glow OF color crept over her cheek as she
spoke. "You have been extremely i'll,
Monsieur" she went on very gently and
sweetly, "andl the least effort will be bad
for you"
Her presence and her voice were soothing
to the feeble and emaciated man. He
obeyed her implicitly.
"Shut your eyes now and 90 TO Sleep"
she said, after letting fall through his lips
a few drops of some cordial, ''all that YOU
need is rest" 1t was the voice of tender.
solicitous authority, so often heard at the
bedside of a sick child. She drew the light
covering of the bed close up to his chin.
then turned and walked noiselessly ont of
the room, leaving in his mind an impression
never felt by any but the young and the
imaginative, and by them only when love
sets its charm in the soul.
He closed his eyes, as she told him, and
fell into a deep, sweet sleep.
[Continued Neat Sunddy.]
Copyright, 1889. bv Maurice Thompson.
cAucHT her hands. GsNoxv I;sten NJ,