The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1899-10-07
CHAPTER X.

Long since the moon mas fnOuHteu IL.
heavens: now it is at its full. A III!
STARS keen company with it, the hush VI
sleeping nature pays homage to 1t. Sol-
emnlv. slowly. from the old belfry tower
the twelve strokes of mldnight h"''
se.l la, who is, as usual. sIeen;n .iao Gri.
of the just, slips GENT, me sIeeI
white across which the moonbeams' ave
travelling delicately.
Sleep has deserted her. Weary at last
Of her efforts to lose herself and her hate
full thoughts in unconsciousness, she de-
termines to rise and try what study may
do for her She steps Eghtly across the
room, opens the door and speeds with all
haste over the corridor, gaunt and ghost
ly in the dim light, down the grand old
staircase, and enters Il room on the left
of the library. where one day she maze
the discovery that comfort was to be
found.
Striking a match, she lights lamp
upon a side table and proceeds to exam
inc the book shelves. Taking down one
that she thinks will please her, Vera
kneels upon one of the deep window
seats, looks outward trying to pierce the
soft and scented gloom.
The opening of the door rouses her. IL
is quite an hour later-an hour forgotten
by her as she read. With a sudden start
she looks up. turning her face over her
shoulder to the door, to see who can be
coming in at this unholy hour. Her
heart grows cold within her as she sees
-SeatOn Dysart.
In silence they stare at each other.
Vera, indeed, SO great is her astonish-
ment. forgets to rise, but sits there curl
ed up among her furs, with little frozen
lock Of fear and detestation on her per-
feet face.
Il have disturbed you," says Seaton
at last, breaking the spell, and speaking
in a distinctly unnatural tone.
Il did hope l should have found pri-
yacy somewhere, at some hour" says
she, coldly.
Il came for book" says he. contrite-
ly. Now that l am here, will you per-
NIT me to say a few words in my own
defenseT'
"Oh, defensew says she, with undis-
guised scorn.
Certainly. l would prove to you how
entirely you have wronged me,P says he,
firmly Il acknowledge that once my
father expressed Il wish that | should
marry YOU" coloring darkly, always
provided you were willing to accept me;
and I"-slowly-''acceded to that wish.'
But why, why?" demands she, flash
ins rUuIIu him
Il do not wonder at your question. II
seems impossible there should be a rea-
son." replies he, coldly; for ever since
the first hour we met you have treated
me with uniform unfriendliness, l had
almost said discourtesy.'
There is a reason, nevertheless says
she, hotly. She has come step or two
nearer to him, and her large. lustrous
eyes, uplifted, seem to look defiance into
his. Your reason l can fathom-but
your father's-that, | confess. puzzles
me. Why should he, whose god is money,
choose the penniless daughter Of the
brother he defrauded to be-
"DefraudedY' interrupts Seaton, with
a frown.
Call It what you WILL" with an ex-
pressive gesture of her undertake
his defense, too; but the fact remains
that the iniquitous deed that gave to
your father what should have been ours
was undoubtedly drawn up by my uncle.
have heard all about it a hundred times
when last writing to him. His taking
us home to live with him was, | sup
pose, a sort of reparation. To marry me
to you, and thus give me back the prop
erty he stole-is that n reparation, tooT
She is as pale as death, and the hands
that cling to the back of the chair neal
her are trembling. But her lips are firm
and her eyes flashing 1t occurs to Sea
ton, gazing at her in breathless silence
that if she could have exterminated him
then and there by a look she would have
done it.
You degrade yourself and me when
you talk like that" says Seaton, who is
now as pale as she is For heavens
sake, try to remember how abominably
you misrepresent the whole thing. If my
father had a freak of this kind in his
head-a desire to see you married to his
only son-surely there was no discOurtesy
to you contained in such a desire. 1t was
rather-you must see that-a well-meant
arrangement on his part. 1t was more
boldly. He loves me; in wishing to see
you my wife he paid you the highest
compliment he could. | defy you to re
gard it in any other light"
You plead his cause well-it is youl
own,' says she, tapping the back of the
chair with taper, angry fingers. why
take the trouble? Do you think you car
bring me to view the case in a lenienr
light? Am | likely to forget that you
you aided and abetted your father in try
ing to force me into this detested mar
riage?'
Pray put that marriage out of youl
head" says he. slowly. You have take1
it too seriously. | assure you | woulC
not marry you now if you were as will
ing as you are unwilling. l can hardl,
put it stronger"
when my grandfather left this prop
erty to your father" she says, slowly
''he left it purposely unentailed. You
father, then. were you to cross hi
wishes, could leave you. as l have beer
left. penniless. To avoid that, you woulC
fall in with any OF his views. You woult
even so far sacrifice yourself as to-mar
ry me-" Oh the contempt in her tone,
There is long pause. Then Seaton
striding forward. seizes her by both arm
and turns her more directly TO the light
The grasp of his hands is as wise, anC
-afterward-it seemed TO her that b.
had, involuntarily, as it were, shaker
her slightly.
How dare your he says, in a low
concentrated tone. She can see that hi
face is very white, and that it is Will
difficulty he restrains himself; she is con
scious, too. perhaps, of feeling a littl
frightened.
Then be puts her quickly from him an,
turns away.
'Pshaw, you are not worth it. h
says. his manner full of the most intens
self-contemps.
CHAPTER Nj
A gleam of moonlight coming throug
the open window puts the lamp t
shame, and compels Yera's attention
How sweet. how heavenly fair the gar
den seems rI,ad in fhnsr uala col