Brookings weekly register. (Brookings, Brookings County, S.D.) 1898-1903, 1899-03-16

Now you are unjust as well as un-
kind. You know nothing is further
from my thoughts than the wish to be
rid OF you. 1t is only that / cannot
bear to think of you immured here in
the dreary loneliness OF this chamber,
that makes me press upon you other
acquaintances. Besides, am vexed
that Others should so misunderstood
you, the Count"
What of him." demanded Bernard
with flashing eye.
Nay, do not look so angry. He does
not understand it-and jests a little
about the misanthropical hermit who
saved my life. He will not comprehend
my explanations"
"I beg you will not make any ex-
! plantations to Count Germain on my be-
half!' began Bernard haughtily; but
her beseeching glance arrested him.
"Ah," said she, reproachfully, why
| will you not allow others TO know you
as good and noble as you appear to
me? What is this mystery that sur
rounds your"
The black cloud came sweeping over
his face. the gloomy fire lent its gleam
to his eye. and with bitter, bitter
sigh, he said:
1T is my fate. cannot help 1t.
wonder that you do not also shrink
| from me. You who know more OF the
| mystery than any other. Do not let
pity keep you here, Lady Violante.'
"Alonew sighed she in return. i
would there was less concealment-
| and yet | must own Il Is not pity, not
even gratitude, that draws me toward
| YOU"
"What then" demanded he eagerly.
"Sincere. earnest friendship" replied
she in clear, steady tones-the sincere
eyes never blenching from his impas-
stoned gaze. IL like you, see so much
that is good and noble beneath this
cold mask you strive to wear. There
is genuine affinity between our minds
and 1t grieves me that others can
not share in my appreciation OF your
worth"
He checked bitter smile, to say
mournfully:
"It Is your own surprising goodness
not any worth of mine; and you know
nothing of me--not even my name-if
be noble or peasant, rich or poor. in
nocent or guilty"
May" said she, catching only at one
idea, mo one could think Of you as
peasant-your very carriage assures
one of noble blood!'
Again. a scornful, cynical smile was
repressed as he turned his face from
observation--and then he said. with a
gravity that was almost solemn:
Lady violante, am mysterious
being-isolation and danger and mys-
terry are my portion; but again / as
sure you 1t Is my misfortune, not my
deserving. Very sweet and precious to
me is the sympathy you have given
these days, filled with pain though
they have been, are the happiest OF my
sorrowful life. That was the humble
instrument of saving you from a
frightful death. will be cause of
thanksgiving and rejoicing to my dying
| day-and yet I am so proud that any
attentions shown to me by you out Of
gratitude TO that, become hateful and
repulsive. o, Lady Violante, I, so un-
loved and alien to all the rest of the
world. cannot afford to lose the sweet
drop In my bitter cup. Think not of
what is due your preserver. but care
for me for my sake"
The fair girl looked at him wistfully.
The rapidly blushing and paling cheek
betrayed the agitation he strove to con-
ceal. The starting tear that only for
moment dimmed the eagle eye, moved
her deeply.
Strange mortal" said she, holding
out her hand with the tenderness of a
woman, and yet the dignity of queen.
'How many times already have you ex-
torted from me that aside from all I
owe you I cannot help admiring and
loving YOU"
He bent over her little hand, and
with the one respectful kiss fell burn
ing tear.
God bless you' come what will here
after. / shall be able to say, the cup of
Joy has once been lifted to my lips,
and the memory of this moment shall
have power to Danish my gloom"
Come" said yiolante, taking up a
book from the table, you shall finish
the poem We began yesterday. Never
heard l reader before, who could so
magnetically charm the ear. All
through my ride with the Count, ! was
longing to return and finish the book
with you. Let lis not waste the time
for when my father is free from the
old Counts visit in the library, he will
make his usual call here. and interrupt
u.s.
NJ. Bernard took the book, but paused
to say:
"The old Count Germain! I have
heard of him: what sort OF character
do you give him?"
Indeed can hardly tell. He Is cer-
tainly variable. At one time, genial,
IL .svxrx hnn