The Chanute times. [volume] (Chanute, Kan.) 1897-1913, 1897-01-15

ceived tonlght-but how much
more hopelessly, You may I'M
agine, when l tell you her whole
affections were given to another-and
that the startling revelation only came
to her upon the command to receiv-
husband from her own station"
The daughter reached up to kiss the
quivering lips, which spoke these words
falteringly.
my poor little Felicie you thought
knew not how to pity you, while you
are so fortunately ignorant of the fiery
pages which I have suffered. There
was pleasant boy, who was foster
brother of my cousin Henri's, and who
shared Henri's home and education,
who even accompanied him to Germany
to the college. 1t was done with the de-
sire of giving the poor, sickly child OF
nobility companion to cheer, amuse
and help him. And all Henri lacked
Emile possessed. He had a swift,
keen intellect, splendidly developed
frame. wonderfully gentle, refined,
and knightly soul. He was absolutely
necessary to the comfortable existence
Of the feeble invalid, and he shared all
the advantages of wealth. He dressed
like q gentleman, he had an education
far above the average, his manners
were elegant, his soul was pure. I was
constantly with the household. l
thought 1t was pity for poor Henri,
and affection for my cousin Annette,
which drew me there, into that happy
circle. l never discovered that 1t was
love for Emile, until l was informed
by my father that he had accepted the
suit of Count Languedoc."
She sighed heavily, and caught her
breath quiveringly. Her daughter
seized her hand, and covered it with
kisses.
81 cannot tell you what strange i'm
pulse impelled me to hurry away into
the little arbor where Annette and Hen
ri sat listening to Emile's melodious
tones as he read to them some old
poem, and break upon them the an
nouncement in the most tragic tone.
My eyes were upon Emile's face.
saw 1t turn deadly pale; l saw the
spasm of agony shake his strong young
frame into the helplessnees OF child
hood. Wretched and selfish that |
was. l felt a glow of joy to know that
he loved me-that the blow which
pierced mine struck home to his heart.
He said not word, but threw down
his book, and walked away. Annette
looking frightened, went after him,
and 1 threw myself, weeping bitterly,
beside Henri Poor boy! he tried to
comfort me-but he had read that one
swift look exchanged between Emile
and myself, and well understood the
depth of my Indebtedness. Too well
he knew, who had known such a true
noblemaa with natures signet, instead
of an earthly monarch's, on his brow,
could have no heart for lower union
of soul"
MY poor, poor motherw 81 ghed Fe-
licie, as she wiped away the treaming
tears.
The countess smiled dreariy.
ut is of the past. l am telling you my
child-not of the present, remember
Emile found means to speak with me
alone. He was nearly crazed with
grief. He talked bitterly and wildly
alas, truthfully, also, as I acknowledged
then and now. What was a paltry
coronet, he asked, beside lifetime OF
love and happiness? He was not no.
BILE born, but he should never be poor.
His education, his strength, his tai
ents were an unfailing mine-he would
make me happier, as his wife, than the
count could with palace and crown.
l could not contradict him. Then he
frantically besought me to fly to the
new world, just in the glory of its in
dependence. Oh, my child! Heaven
spare you the terrible conflict which
shook my very soul! 1t was terrible
temptation-to leave the harsh, unpity-
ing father, who would wreck my hap
piness so needlessly, to fly with the
one my whole heart clave to. But l
was spared the decision. My father
had somehow obtained an idea of the
cause of my reluctance to fulfil his
wishes. He had watched our meeting
in the summer house between the two
estates. He came upon us like a roar
ing lion; he heaped upon Emile the most
abusive language, the most abhorrent
revilings. Emile was like marble sta
tue, only the nostrils were curved with
fiery indignation, and the eyes glowed
like balls Of fire. He answered not
word-but coming to me, held out his
hand, and the hollow despair of the
tone haunts me now.
ut is needless to struggle longer
against fate, said he slowly; farewell,
Marguerite. Heaven give me all the
bitterness, and leave you peace
And before l could speak, he was
gone. Ny fathers anger with me was
terrible. was so crushed beneath |
it, made no effort to save myself, and |
more like a corpse than a bride, was
brought hither by your father, only
two months after Emile's farewell"
"Oh, mamma, mamma, my angel |
mammal" sobbed Felicie; and you
have lived till this time"