The World. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1891-1896, 1893-03-03

scarcely any preparation, sent TO
Europe, and her life settled down into
dull, unhappy monotony, which was
now unbroken by any efforts on the
part Of madam or the young ladies to
tighten. They received and paid visits
and went occasionally to New Orleans
for weeks holiday, but never on any
occasion requested her society.
Rose could not be ignorant that this
change had not been accomplished
without much angry disputlng in the
house, but there are situations in which
man is powerless TO defend a woman,
however anxious he may be to do SO,
and Mr.. Aslin felt this fact painfully.
just what were his wife's suspicious,
she never told anyone. 1t is likely she
had not even decided on them in her
own heart, but they had a very decided
effect. Miss Rose Van Ransaleur's
name began to be omitted from all
invitations and calls Of ceremony, and
the very servants dropped the element
of respect out Of their attentions, unless
Mr.. Aslin was present.
Poor little Rose. This was not her
only trouble. Frank never wrote to
her. His mother indeed read some
pleasant message or apology in the
first letters, with always a promise of
long letter for herself, but it never
came; and gradually even the message
grew colder, until it, too, WIS for
gotten
Nothing can change the nature of
woman like the indulgence of one over
mastering passion. In her insane jeal-
ousy, madam forgot her inherent lazi-
ness. She learned to follow Rose into
the loneliest and most distant parts of
the plantation and to watch her at
hours once absolutely devoted to slum-
Der and privacy From this terrible
persecution, Rose began slowly to per-
ceive she must fly somewhere.
One day, when the madame and her
pretty ungenerous daughters had gone
for a holiday to New Orleans, Rose, de-
flying her negro guards, went boldly to
Mr. Aslin's office and poured forth,
with passionate tears and complaints,
all her wrongs, entreating that her
real position might be explained to her
Mr. Aslin seemed to suffer in her re-
cital more lSeeniy than Rose herself A
spasm of intense agony contracted his
face, but he w Guild not suffer her to
move.
g 1t will be over soon, child" he said
land it is well that you have brought
me to this point. You shall know all
that l can tell you. Rose, your father
and | were sworn friends even in early
boyhood We were both at the same
school. | was strong and he was siclSly
and weak. ! fought his battles and
talked to him through many night
when he was suffering too much to
sleep.
''Then, dear, we both went to Eu-
rope, and |, while he was studying
hard, gave myself up to every species
of sin and dissipation Yet his love
never grew cold; his patience never
wearied. At last, Rose, | committed
crime which would have sent me to
prison for the best years of my life, had
not your father, by absolutely impov-
erishing himself, placed me in safety
He did this without word of re-
proach. He clasped my stained hand
and wept as bitterly at parting with
81 buried myself in this wilderness,
then n Mexican town, and commenced
the practice of law. After some years
| married and wealth and honors fol-
lowed me- but | never had another
friend. | kept my own counsel even
from my wife. About five years after
my settlement here your father wrote
and told me that lovely girl whom
he had married in defiance of his father
and friends wish was apparently dy-
ing. He had hopes of delaying DEATH
however, in a southern climate if |
could find a nice home for him. Just
at that time, the little Florida place was
lying in my hands for exchange for Tex
as sugar lands, and | bought it, and
went myself to meet my friend 70 see
him comfortably accommodated to cir
cumstances
"Your mother fingered about year,
and, after her death, his Florida home
became very dear to your father. The
climate suited his health. 1t was far
removed from all his estranged fami-
ly. He could live economically there
And as l was now able to pay back
gradually my debt, there was no need
for any cXertion on his part. He de-
voted himself to literature, and became
noted writer on the subjects he inves-
tigated.
But the quarrel with his family was
never healed. He was, in general, for
giving and forbearing to fault; but
the opposition and cruelty which his
young wife had met with he considered
objectionable. When he found himself
dying he sent for me and committed
you and your interests to my care.
Knowing that you must however poor
you now are) eventually inherit your
grandfather's immense wealth, how
could let you, in the foolish tender
ness OF first passion, marry Frank?
My duty to you demands that you must
see more of the world before deciding
so important a matter.
1T Is time you went now to those
more able to protect you than am.
/ NrNt- r