The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1890-04-04

made TO tho demand of Mme. de NoTvlns,
though their thoughts ran often upon the
subject.
Mme de Noirville had finally told Ray.
mond of the step she had taken, and at first
he was inclined to reproach her for her UNI
fortunate errand, undertaken without his
knowledge. The answers of Suzanne to her
fathers questions aroused in him the demon
of jealousy, and at last he could bear no
more. IL must know, must know, 4" he cried
and rushed Off through the woods and into
the park, in the blind hone OF finding her who
filed his thoughts Nowhere in the park
could he find Suzanne, and half himself he
approached the house, feeling that alone and
single handed he could storm fortress for
the sake of seeing her. Drawn by invisible
attraction, he went to the large green house
where Suzanne was walking listlessly among
the plants He reached her side and held
out his hands in silence. She saw that his
face was drawn and haggard with suffering.
and her whole heart cried out for him, and
she gave him her hand.
"Suzanne! Suzannel have had horrible
thoughts could bear them no longer. What
is this obstacle between usl have right to
know. Your silence leaves me in the black
shadow of doubt; and forgive mo, Suzanne,
think such dreadful things-such things as
you cannot imagine. They are worse to bear
than the truth would be, no matter what it
IS I pray you, Suzanne, ON my knees, tell
me what it is that stands between us,
and will bear it bravoly if it must be borne;
but, obi tell me. Save my mind from such
agoniziug torture as your silence imposes
upon me with its unworthy doubts"
"Raymond," said Suzanne at last, wiping
away with her own handkerchief the beads
of sweat that stood out on his forehead as he
knelt before her-"Raymond, you suffer
much, and pity you with all my heart. 1
will tell you. You have the right to ask me
to lay bare my secret, though it Is not in
reality mine, but another's."
"Then hush, Suzanne. Forgive me- no
longer wish to know"
at is too late, said she. ain spite of your
cruel doubts which dishonor me, pardon
you; but you must hear my fathers secret.
But first you must swear secrecy the most
absolute"
~ promise you, Suzanne, on my honor"
Suzanne closed her eyes as she leaned
against the wall.
Raymond" said she, II cannot be your
wife, because the name 1 bear is not mine.
nor that of my father, for am the daughter
of a man in hiding from justice; because he
committed great crime, not one Of those
crimes which vengeance explains and extenu-
ates, but an odious, frightful crime, which
dishonors a whole family forever. My father
killed a man for money"
Raymond could not speak. She continues:
"Yous know of this crime, Raymond,
though you were young then, and your
father. the friend of my father, died in his
defense"
"Roger Laroquel" whispered Raymond.
"Alas, yes"
"You are his daughter. You, then, are
that little girl who bore herself so nobly. so
bravely."
"Alas, yes. My father escaped and lived
all these years in America. He thinks do
not remember, and he wished to return to
Franco at the risk Of being taken"
"What is his objectp
"That he cannot tell me, as he thinks have
forgotten. As IL I could ever forget"
"But my father said that Roger Laroque
was innocent He knew him well, and friends
like him do not mistake. believe my father
was right, and that your father was unjustly
condemned. There was o mystery that was
never cleared up. Suzanne, do you know
that"
"Alas! Raymond, you are good to wish to
defend my father, but for me there exists no
mystery. The judges were right in their
questioning. ! knew Ill. My mother and
myself saw all My father was the assassin. !"