The Mason County journal. [volume] (Shelton, W.T.) 1886-1927, 1890-07-18

more, for he knew he could not permit such
an abomination.
Raymond drew back and with groan Of
agony, the like of which she never heard, be
started and ran away from her and tempta-
ton as though pursued by demons; and she;
poor girl, held out her hands after bis 70
treating figure, but he was gone And when
she could see him no more she fell swooning
upon the moss as if he had taken her life
with him. She lay thus like one dead
for an hour, and when she regained her
serses she crept feebly home and to her bed,
where morning found her sick and suffering.
When Laroque returned at night he found
her very i'll, with every symptom of brain
fever. The physician ordered quiet, and said
that he feared she had suffered some mental
shock
That night In her 6elirium the unfortunate
father heard in disjointed sentences enough
to inform him that Raymond had abandoned
her, and he determined to have an e1piana-
ton with him, and to that end drove over to
Meridon farm, and asked to see Raymond
alone.
"You wish to speak to me, sir?" said Ray
mond.
eyes, M. De Noirville My daughter is
cape her enough to convince me that though
we thought your marriage would soon take
place, you suddenly withdraw your promise.
Was that done on account Of my having been
adjudged guilty of murder~
'No, and know that in spite of that you
were the most honest and loyal man in the
world, and l know that you have been very
unhappy"
my daughter loves you and will die if you
desert her. In remembrance of the friendship
which united your father and me, will you
tell me why you do this7 Why your sudden
change"
s'Alasl sir, when I asked for the honor Of
her dear hand 1 did not know-that-
that
81 was an escaped convictF'
"a convict That, sir, did you honor under
the circumstances"
'Then what do you meanT'
"That-that you had been my mothers
lover"
Roger closed his eyes and shuddered, and
bowed his head in shama
"You invoke the friendship which existed
between my father and you. That friendship
was the death Of my fether. Can you deny
it!'
II cannot; we were both culpable once, but
I, at least, have Deen atrociously punished.
One word from your mother would have
saved me, but she would not say it, and
could not l have paid, God knows, in tears
and groans for my wrong. But all that Is
past and gone. The thing to consider now is
the happiness of my child, and yours, if you
love her, as have been led to suppose. Let
your union repair the past"
mo-" said Raymond. sit is impossible
"You do not love her thena"
''God only knows how well do"
"There must be. then, another reason be-
sides the one you have cited. 1t is that
which governs your conduct. Will you tell
me?"
"Neverl M. Laroque. you see how I suffer-
Spare me, pity mel"
"Pity? Have you or yours had any for met
Think of that poor, innocent child who will
die Who of us three is to be the most
pitieda"
Raymond gave fearless sob.
at is to kill her as surely as if you struck
her with knife. You shall be the first to
hear of her death!" and with these words the
unhappy man left the room. In the garden
he met Julia, and in taking leave Of her he
said:
MADAME, Raymond and Suzanne love each
other Your son has given her up without
explanation, and my daughter is dying Save
her, madame"
And without further words he drove bur-
riedly away, leaving Julia a prey to per-
plexity and fear. Why had Raymond vol
UNFAIRLY renowned his happinessa What
had happened2 She resolved to question him
as to this new phase of affairs, and she went
to him as he sat with his head bowed upon
bis arms by table. As he heard her, he rose
and, taking book, went and sat down by the
open window, and he silently nerved himself
for the grave explanation that soon must
take place between them, and he was afraid.
He had borne the reproaches of Laroque the
grief of Suzanne, and now it was his mothers
turn. He was to hear her questions and
answer them. He was to witness her fushes
OF shame. her tears. His mother And this
was to come to her through him, her best
loved son, who had thus to become her judge
1t was afternoon and already the shadows
were lengthening, and Raymond felt glad
that darkness would soon fall upon them and
so make his task a little easier. He MAIN
tanned silence until he felt her soft hand fall
upon his shoulder.
GU are sad and preoccupied, my son.
What troubles you"
Nothing" said he hoarsely, feeling him.
self, after all. incapable of bringing about
what he knew must take place.
She sighed as she said:
MY poor boy, it is not easy for you to tell
lie. Do not try it with me- NJ Forney
told me you refused the hand of Suzanne
You do not answer. 1t is true thena"
He bowed his head.
why this strange and sudden changei |
have right to know. Your duty is to tell
men
Il shall not answer"
"What reproach can you bring against that
pure and noble girl!"
Nothing, nothingl"
"Her father then2"
Nor him, either. poor unhappy mani"
"Then i cannot understand you at all.
Why this mystery? Speak. l command you.
Have you any reproach to make against me,
your mother, who has loved you sol"
She bad said this last, obeying some occult
power, and when she had uttered the words
she stood breathless waiting his answer. What
if her past was knownl Why had she said
that?
You wish to know all, mothers"
Il DO, for l know there must be some SUI
preme reason for this inexplicable conduct on
your part"
He gathered his remaining strength, and
then said slowly:
There Is a grave secret in NJ. Forney's life.
His name is not Forney, but it hides another
which is known to you, and which was dis
honored."
"Dishonored, you sayp
Yves, by all infamous condemnation. For
ney is an escaped convict, condemned for
assassination to hard labor for life in New
Caledonia, from whence he escaped to
America"
She had been standing, but now fell into a
chair, almost fainting.