Condon globe. (Condon, Gilliam Co., Or.) 189?-1919, 1903-09-17


on. Poor Rose! 10 think of the deceit
the crime, that surrounds you! even /
who should be honest, being the protec
Tor OF sinless child like yon--even
am un6t-ashamed TO look Ia your face
And you think me good man. COMPEL
ed 10 steal out in the dead OF night q
scenes Of crime and darkness. and then
return TO meet your loving, holy kisses
and listen 10 your childlike words, that
thrust a thousand daggers through me
because their purity shows me my own
guilt In the blackest huel o, Rose
Rose! to think OF the wrongs l have
done. and yours the greatest
The door opened, and, cautiously, pFet.
ty Rose entered. A quick glance cast
about the room assured her that her dis.
agreeable cousin had taken his departure
She ran joyfully to her fathers side,
exclaiming:
He has really gone, them
"You do not like him, Mignonnel''
asked her father, tenderly.
Like him?-no, papa, nor ever did.
He Ii not pleasant visitor, by any
means. Well, you shall come and eat
some supper. See, II Is all ready, and
while you are doing 50, | will tell you
something"
"Let me hear It."
Somebody has been here, papa. 1t
was the young Count Louis-the Count
d'Artois, papa. He has come to visit
the chateau, as we heard he was about
| 10 do"
At this Hugh I.amonte slightly started.
His knife dropped to the hoor, and he
quickly stopped to pick It up, exclaimlng,
How carelessr Rising, he resumed his
| repast.
"'The count has been here, Rose? What
did he come here forY''
'For shelter"
Hugh I.amonte turned pale.
"Well, Rose-for shelter? You are not
very explicit. Shelter from whatf' His
tone was hasty and agitated. He seem
ed to be aware Of II, for he added imme.
diately: "You must talk both to and for
me. dear child. tonight. aud not leave mo
anything to do. for you see am fatigued.
Tell me all about II, Rose. What did he
want shelter for, and what did he say Z"
1T was raining very hard, you know.
papa" she answered. gently, "and he
was journeying to the chateau. He stop
ped until sas storus was over.
An hour later Hugh Lamonte paced bis
own apartment with q stern brow and
heavy heart, In which a thousand rack
ing and tormenting thoughts rioted. Low.
ly and humble seemed his daily life; hon
est and good, though poor, he himself
esteemed, and yet secret sin and years
of hidden anguish and remorse were daily
and hourly cankering In his soul. Uuder
cover OF his constant industry and the
estimation Of his neighbors, he led life
of hidden crime. But 1t was only in the
darkness that he practiced it; only when
he could steal forth and no neighbor was
abroad to watch his steps; and stealing
back again ere the dawn, pass another
day Of rustic labor, and await another
night Of crime.
Thus It had been for years, and this
was not his worst deed, either. Yet this
man had not always been bad. Away
back, in the lapse of time, shone forth
the light Of happy years, and innocent
thoughts and deeds: Of an unstained con-
science and a pure heart: OF a life that
once was sinless. But he dared not look
upon these things now. For though he
had long since slckened Of these scenes
of crime, and though he would gladly
have forsaken them, he could not burst
asunder the bonds that held and shackled
him. He dared not seek a separation
from the crew Of desperate, lawless men
who looked to him as their leader.
And the consciousness almost madden
ed him. There were times when he
would have plunged thousand degrees
deeper into vice than ever he had vet
done. that he might stife these better
feelings-these promptings OF the yet liv.
ing monitor within, since they were in
vain; and then 1t was only the ever-pres-
ent image OF his child that saved him
the memory Of her sweet face and inno-
cent life, of her faith and Of her love.
Poor Rose!
1t was this Gasparde-this man whom
we have seen with him to-night-who
planned the last expedition. They were
Lamonte's men who attacked Louis d'Ar-
tois In the forest; and Gasparde was one
of them. They were defeated, as we have
seen, to the infinite surprise and secret
satisfaction Of Hugh, who, while he had
been unwilling to give consent to the
plan, aud yet had not dared offer oppo-
sition to Gasparde, who was next to him.
self in authority, had yet managed to
avoid joining in its execution. Indeed,
his errand that day from home had been
secretly to warn Louis Of the danger
awaiting him; but he had missed seeing
him, and failed in his project. He did
not know that the count had been warn
ed, Notwithstanding; and, knowing that
the weapons of Louis had been rendered
useless, In measure, before his days
journey was commenced, was astounded
to learn, on reaching the rendezvous In
the forest, that he had baffied his ene-
mics, and not only baffled them, but given
them ample reasons for remembering him
for some time to come.
Hugh Lamonte had reasons for not
wishing to injure Louis d'Artois, or any
of his people; and he earnestly desired to
save him from the clutches of Gasparde,
who had led this affair throughout; for
he was mora than apprehensive that II
the count made Arm resistance. and
gave them too much trouble, unless that
resistance were ovarpowering, he would
only exasperate his assailants, who might
easily murder him In their rage and Inn
patience. And now that he had indeed
escaped, and left them with so severe a
reminder Of their defeat, Hugh trembled
for him more than ever. He knew that
Gasparde was enraged at the loss Of the
prize he had counted on, and yet more
deeply at the treatment to which he and
his man had haan suhiacto6 ana that if