The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1889-03-26

Orion would have scarcely heard the
bursting of a thunderstorm overhead. for
he stood up all forgetful that he ever had
felt a wound, holding close-clasped in hia
arm the Lily of Rochon.
In those days. much more than now
there was romance in love-making, and
the moment of all moments in life was
that when "Spirits rushed together at the
touching of the lips" Love at first sight
and marriage without long, fashionable de-
lays were the sweets of youthful expert
ence. It was fitting, it was beautiful, and
1t was the just elimination of life for
those strong and imaginative young peo-
pie that love anne in and crowned them
at the moment when one was about to
need so much the protection of the other.
While the old, old drama of love was
thus being enacted within the stately RO-
chon house, the tragedy of sudden death
had disclosed itself just beyond the walls
at the edge of the wood.
GaSpard Rochon with a heavy cow
whip in his hand had gone in search of
Lalie Garcin. He could not brook the
thought that a negro should dare to play
the spy upon his estate, much less a Gar
Gin negro.
"The sneaking little wench! /" he ex-
claimed, with a scowl which on his face
was peculiarly sinister, "TIl teach her
how to be peeping in at my windows"
He had seen her down there as he
CHANGED to look out of Orton's easement,
and something in the respectful friendli-
ness of Orton's tone in speaking of her
had exasperated the old man nightly.
Lalie in fact had no evil motive in
lingering around Rochon place. The de-
sire to see Orion, of whose convalescence
she had heard through Bobo, was her
only impulse in the matter. It was rarely
indeed that one of her race thought of
vengeance upon a white who had done q
wrong, no matter how great; but if the
virus of revenge once set itself in the
negro blood there was no antidote but
death. The girl would have fed when
Rochon approached her had she seen him
a little ooner but she was watching the
window in which Orion and Felicie RO-
chon were visible; and she had neither
eyes nor ears for anything else. The
blood was all gone from her face, leaving
it a strange ashy brown, her eyes were
burning, her lips purple and compressed.
She was as rigid and almost as lost to her
immediate surroundings as if she had been
a statue. Recent experiences with the
bitter ~deprivations attending them had
left her without those little adornmentS
and graces which had done so much for
her half-savage beauty, and now she
looked distraught almost as she gazed
fxedly up at the open window, her hair
d~isheveled, her cheeks drawn, her brows
furrowed with the strain of her intense
feeling.
"Hol here, you little black wenchE
What are you doing here? ?" roared old
Rochon as he rushed forward and brought
down his whip upon the girls shoulders
with a keen swish and a loud thwack.
Cup with you and be gone from here, or
I'll thrash you to death in a minute |" He
struck again. That was the last time that
Gaspard Rochon's whip ever fell upon the
back of a negro. Lalie leaped to her feet
and sprang away. AS she did so she
faced about and confronted her assailant.
The old man saw the muzzle of her leveled
gun and Jumped forward to strike it down.
Too late. The slender Jet of fire and
smoke and the ringing report came first.
He was shot through the heart.
Bobo appeared on the spot a few minutes
later and Lalie was gone. He stood for a
moment gazing at the dying old man,
then with a horrible look in his face he
picked up a heavy pine-knot that lay near
and delivered three or four heavy blows
upon Rochon's head. This done he ran
wildly away into the woods in pursuit Of
Lalie.
CONTINUED NEXT WEEK.