The Hood River glacier. (Hood River, Or.) 1889-1933, 1902-02-14


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"Why, look you; would give her even
you! Youi My son! My one possession
that has any good in it!'
"You must put chat idea out Of your
head once for all. ! could not combat
a dislike active as hers"
Her dislike? Hers? That beggarl'
his face working. what dye mean, sifI
tell you it shall be! Shallr'
Talking like that will not mend mat
tiers. 1t certainly will not alter the fact
that ! myself personally am objection
able to her | can see that it is almost
as much as she can do to be civil to me
to sit at the same table with me. | en-
treat you not to set your heart upon this
thing, for it can never be-"
II tell you again that it shall"' shrieks
the old man, violently. what! is the
cherished dream of lifetime to be set
aside to suit the whim of girl, penni-
less creatuF? She shall be your wife,
swear it, though have to crush the
consent out of her." He falls back clum-
silly into his chair, huddled heap.
Seaton in an agony Of remorse and fear
hangs over him, compelling him to swal-
low cordial lying on the table near.
Here, sir Be patient. All shall be
as you wish. implore you to think no
more of this matter. Yes" in answer to
the fiery eyes now more CHASTITY than
ever in the pallid, powerless face, Il
shall try my best to fulfill your desire"
He feels sick at heart as he says this,
and almost despicable; but can he let the
old man die for want of word to APP
pease the consuming rage that has
brought death lowering with outstreteh1
ed wings above him? And yet, of what
avail is it all? A momentary appease-
ment. Even as he comforts and restores
his father there rises before bis mental
vision that pale, proud, sorrowful face,
that Is all the world to him, and yet,
alas! so little.
| Vera having made up her mind to go
to her uncle and fully explain to him that
neither she nor Griselda desire any
change in their way of living, waits pa
tiently for Seaton's departure from his
fathers den, and now, at last, seeing
the coast clear, goes quickly forward.
Uncle Gregory, | wish to say some
thing to you," she is beginning, hurried
ly, hating her task and hating her hearer,
when suddenly she is interrupted.
"Hah For the first time, let me say,
am glad to see you" says the old man,
grimly. Hitherto | have been reIniss
fear, in such minor matters Of eti-
quette. Sit down. |, too have something
to say to you" He fixes his piercing
eyes on her and says, sharply: You have
met my son several timesy
"Yes," says Vera.
"You like him?' with watchful
glance.
II can hardly say so much," coldly.-
"He is neither more nor less than a COM
plete stranger to me"
"As yet. Time will cure that; and |
speak thus early to you, because it is
well that you should make up your mind
beforehand to like him."
"Why?" she asks.
Because in him you see your future
husband"
There is a dead pause. The old man
sits with bright unblinking eyes fixed
upon the girl, who has risen to her feet
and is staring back at him as If hardly
daring to understand. From red to white,
from white to red she grows; Aer breath
fails her, passionate indignation burns
hot within her breast.
"Absurdw she says, contemptuously.
"Call it so if you will, with an offend
ed fash from his dark eyes. but regard
1t as a fact for all that. You will marry
your cousin, let me assure you"
THAT | certainly shall not" decisive
ly.
THAT you certainly shall. Did you
not know that your marriage with my
son was the last wish, the last command
of your fatherY
He is lying well, so well that at first
the girl forgets to doubt him.
my father?" she says, with much
amazement. HE never so much as men,
toned my cousins name to me-"
"To me, however, he did, Do you wish
to see the letterT
This is a bold stroke. Vera hesitates-
then, mo" says she, steadily. "Even
if my father did express such wish.
should not for a moment accede to it.
shall not marry to please any one, dead
UT llNluR, except myself
80 you now think We shall see," re-
turns he, in an icy tone.
MAY ask if-if your son is aware of
this arrangement
my son is willing" says Mr.. Dysart,
slowly.
At this moment the door is thrown
open and Seaton himself enters
you knowv' she cries. Her tone is
low, but each word rings clear as a bell.
"You know! Oh, coward" she breathes
very low, her slender hands cinched.
Reused from his lethargy and stung by
her contempt, he would now have made
his defense, but with a seornful gesture
she waves him aside and leaves the
room.
"Great heaven! how did you dare so to
insult her?" cries the young man, IN ter
rible agitation, addressing his father He
casts a burning glance at him. Dysart
covers before it.
"0ut of evil comes good" he says sui
lenly, "and did it for the best" He
stretches out his hand to his son. See
then" he cries, entreatingly, 81 did it for
you-for you!
HuE ults AOu rum tue que nope L
had, which meant silence-time-an you
say 1t was for my goodv
81 thought to compel her, to frighten
her into consent, and | will yet" cries
he, eagerly. NAY, Seaton, do not look
thus upon me. have not betrayed you
without meaning, and all for the fulfill
ing of your desire-and mine"
"YOu misunderstood me-" says Seaton,
curbing his passion with difficulty. Il
would not have her as a gift on such
terms. Is It a slave | want, think youi
No, not another word! | cannot stand
it tonight. Forgive me, father, IL
seem abrupt, but"
He seems heartbroken as he turns
aside and disappears through the door
way.
Long after he has gone the old man
sits motionless, his head bowed upon his
breast
Curse herT he says at last; the
same blood all through, and always to
my undoing! Cursed be her lot indeed If
she comes between him and mel But
that shall never be-"
Presently he passes through a door on
his right hand. gropes his way along the
} unlighted passage. Unlocking and enter
ing an apartment here-where the
strange old cabinet stands-he fastens
the door securely behind him, and goes
quickly up to il.