Custer chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, Black Hills, D.T. [S.D.]) 1880-1890, 1889-05-18

CHAPTER VI.
The anger of Lord tarisWood, when he
heard Of his daughters cl0penent, was
something terrible To witness. She had
written 10 him-smi!ing Is she wrote,
thinking only OF the novelty, ignoring the
terrible consequences that might follow
telling him that she had found that the
happiness o. her life depended entirely on
her love, and that, before he had read her
letter, she would be Thornton Cameron's
wife.
lie read her words with n frown, and
took an oath never while he lived to look
upon her face a%gain-an oath which lie
kept unbroken.
He might have taken a dozen different
methods of furnishing the man who robbed
him OF his daughter; he adopted none of
them. He contented himself with casting
her of forever. She was no longer a
Carlswood; his love for her changed into
bitterest hate. She had broken the long
spell--he could never say again that no
Carlswood had ever contracted q low mar
riage; he could never boast hat the name
was unsullied. She had stained it by rum
ming away with a low-born stranger; moth
ing could restore its luster, nothing could
give back its lost glory. His anger was
something terrible-terrible in its depth,
its silence, it's intensity. To himself he
said that if she were lying at his feet dy-
ing Of hunger he would not give her bread.
lie made no loud complaints; he never
mentioned her name. If anyone attempt
ell to condole with him, he held up his
hand with n stately gesture that enforced
silence. His scorn, his anger, his terrible
Indignation, lay too deep for words. He
went at once to Bralyn, where all tho
household were prepared to defend them
selves; but he did not condescend to ask
any questions. His gamekeepers wished
TO tell him OF rambles in the woods, Of
stolen meetings in the grounds; the
naughty nobleman refused to hear q syl-
liable.
He dismissed the governess with a sar-
donic compliment; he gave orders that
everything which had ever belonged to
the unfortunate Katrine should be re-
moved from the house; he refused to say
where they were to be taken to or any
thing about them, and they were ulti-
mately deposited in the gate-keeper's
lodge.
Despite his pride, his sternness, his ter
ilDic tOiittBipt dIli sCOIu, titIC was oII
thing pitiful in the proud mans silent,
solitary despair. He ook down the record
Of his children's births; he read over the
names of his boys; and then a great mist
of tears seemed to hide the word Kat
rine" from him-burning tears, all the
more painful because since his wife's death
he had she'd none. He sat alone in his
library, and before him rose like SO many
ghosts all the hopes he had centered in
that beautiful daughter; he remembered
her as a lovely laughing child-as a lovely.
high-spirited girl. He thought of the dead
mother who had loved her so dearly, and
IL deep. bitter sigh came from the depths
of his ~overcharged heart. His daughter
his daughter.
Never more was he to hear the gay
young voice-never more to watch the
beautiful face; she was worse, ten thou
sand times worse, than dead. Dead, he
could have loved her still, he could have
visited her grave. =. could have spoken
of her; but she was dishonored and dis
graced, she was unworthy of regret-she
who had brought the first stain upon the
name of Carlswood-she who had stopped
TO deceive him.