Condon globe. (Condon, Gilliam Co., Or.) 189?-1919, 1902-02-20
CIIApTER X.


heavens: now Il IL at It's full. A myriad
stars keep company with Il. the hush OF
sleeping nature pays homage to II. Koi'
emnly. slowly, from the old belfry tower
the twelve strokes OF midnight have
sounded on the air.
Vera. rising cautiously from beside Grl-
aelda. who Is. as usual. sleeping the sleep
of the just. slips gently on to the bare
white across which the moonbeams are
travelling delicately.
Sleep has deserted her. Weary OF last
of her efforts 10 lose herself and her hate
ful thoughts In unconsciouHness, she de-
termInes 10 rise and try what study may
do for her. She steps lightly across the
room. opens the door and speeds with all
haste over the corridor, gaunt and ghost.
~ III the dim light, down the grand old
staircase. and enters a room on the left
Of the library. whore one day she made
the discovery that comfort was to be
found
Striking match. she lights lamp
upon u side table aud proceeds TO exam
ine the book 3, ives. Taking down one
that she thinks win please her, Vera
knecls upon one OF the deep window
seats. looks outward, trying to pierce the
soft and scented gloom.
The opening Of the door rousea her. IL
Il quite an hour later--an hour forgotten
by her ns she read. With sudden start
she looks up. turning her face over her
shoulder 20 the door, TO see who can be
coming In at this unholy hour. Her
heart grows cold within her as she sees
-~Scutou Dysart!
In silence they stare at each other.
Vera, indeed, so grcat Is her aStonlsh-
ment, forgrts 10 rise. but sits there curl
cd up among her furs, with little frozen
look of fear and detcstation on her per-
feet face.
II have disturbed you." says Seaton
at last, breaking the spell, and speaking
In distinctly unnatural tone.
II did hope | should have found pri-
vncy somewhere, az some hour says
she. c0ldiy,
II came for book" says he, contritc-
IL. "Now thar am here. viii you per.
init me 20 sny few words in my own
defenSeT
"oh. defcnser' says she. with undis.
guised scorn.
Certainly. would prove TO you how
entirely you have wronged me" says he,
firmly. IL acknowledge that once my
father expressed wish that | should
marry you," coloring darkly, always
provided you were willing to accept me;
and F'--slowly- -"acceded to that wish.
but why, whyr demands she. fash.
Ing round az him.
"I do not wonder at your question. II
seems impossible there should be rea-
son." replies he, coldly; "for ever since
the first hour we met you have treated
me with uniform unfriendliness, had
almost said diseourtesy."
'"There Is n reason, nevertheless" says
she, hotly. She has come a step or two
nearer TO him, and her large, lustrous
eyes, uplifted, seem 20 look defiance into
his. "Your reason l can fathom-but
your father's-thOt, l confess, puzzles
me. Why should he, whose god Is money,
choose the pennIless daughter OF the
brother he defraudcd to be-"
"Defrauded" interrupts Seaton, with
. frOwn.
"Call II what you WILL" with an OK
presslye gesture OF her hand-"undertak
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 1t a hundred times.
Your father hardly denied 1t to mine
when last writing to him. His taking
us home TO live with him was, ! sup.
pose, sort OF rcparatlon. To marry me
to you, and thus give me back the prop.
erty he stole--is that reparation, tooT
She Is us pale as death, aud the hands
that cling to the back Of the chair near
her are trembling. But her lips are firm
and her eyes flashing. II occurs to Sea-
ton, gazing at her in breathless silence,
that II she could have exterminated him
then and there by look she would have
done 1t.
''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. II my
father had freak Of this kind In his
head-a desire to see you married to his
only son--sufely there was no discourtesy
to you contained In such desire. II was
rather-you must see that--a well-meant
arrangement ON his part. 1t was more"
boldly. "IIe loves me; In wishing to see
you my wife he paid you the highest
compliment he could. defy you to re-
gard II In any other light"
'You plead his cause well--it Is your
own" says she, tapping the back of the
chair with taper, angry fingers. "Why
take the trouble? Do you think Won can
bring me to view the case in lenient
light? Am likely to forget that you
you aided and abetted your father In try
ing to force me into this detested mar
TiageF
"Pray put that marriage out of your
head" says he, slowly. "You have taken
1t too seriously. I assure you would
not marry you now II you were as will.
Ing as you are unwilling, | can hardly
put 1t stronger"
when my grandfather left this prop
erty to your father" she says, slowly,
che left It purposely unentailed. Your
father, then, were you to cross his
wishes, could leave you, as | have been
left, penniless. TO avoid that. you would
fall In with any Of his views. You would
even so far sacrifice yourself as to--mar-
ry mel" Oh, the contempt In her tone!
There is long pause. Then Seaton,
striding forward, seizes her by both arms
and turns her more directly to the light.
The grasp Of his hands is as a wise, and
--afterward--it seemed to her that he
had, involuntarily, as 1t were, shaken
her slightly.
'How dare your" he says, in low,