The Hood River glacier. (Hood River, Or.) 1889-1933, 1903-11-19
CHAPTER XIII.

furnished library Of the marquis, the sll'
yer lamps burned with a soft, suDdueu
glow, blending their moonlight radiance
with the deeper and warmer tinge cast by
blazing wood FIRE upon the broad hearth
ever the magnificent apartment, with its
dark, massive, antique furniture, its
broad, high walls, lined with costly ana
substantial volumes, ths-crimson draper
les of its deep windows, and the polished
eaken floor that shone and reflected back
the mellow warmth In ripping lines OF
light.
Beside table of curiously caryen OAK
which is strewn with rare and ancient
volumes and the writing implements OF
the marquis, and which occupies the cen
ter of the floor, sits Rose. She is lean
ing forward upon this table, her face hid
den in her folded arms-those fair, sculp-
tured arms whose snowy whiteness
CLEANS rarely through the veil OF falling
tresses. Her graceful form is attired in
robe Of shining fabric, its pearl-hued
folds sweeping the floor about her ana
shining, glittering softly in the mellow
light shed all around her. She does not
move; she is silent--motionless she hard
ly seems TO breathe even. So quiet IS
she, as she reclines thus, with her face
concealed, that you might think her sleep
ing.
But Rose is not sleeping. Her errand
hither is Of too painful nature for that.
Alone, in this swelling silence. she waits;
and listening for an approaching root
step, the hour passes in deep and sorrow
full reverie. For Rose has a duty, too
long deferred, to perform tonight, and
its consequences may be only too bitter
bitter to her, inRsmuch as they Rfect
others. She does not fear the perform
Rnce of this duty because she shrinks
from fulfilling her trust-from keeping
her plghted word; but she pictures to
herself the disappointment she may be
about to inflict on others.
A distant door unclOses, but so softly
In its casing OF cloth that no sound fol-
lows. 1t Is a gentleman who enters; he
pauses a moment; his glance takes in the
beauty and subdued splendor of the scene
before him; but it is accustomed to that.
1t rests upon the center OF the whole
upon the bowed figure of the young girl
yonder by the table. A shadow, a blend
ing at once of sorrow and perple1ity,
rests upon his fine brow. Then closing
the door, he advances, and stands beside
the table.
Rose" he calls gently.
The young girl raised her head.
rs it you, Louis" she asked, with an
air of sadness Il thought you were
away"
Il have remained at home, Rose.
could not CO. wished to see you"
''You wished to see me, Louis? We
are in each others presence every day.
Tonight"
"Ay, tonight, Rose! Tonight, you
would say. you have an interview with
my uncle, and cannot listen to me.
knew of this interview; my uncle told
me; and, forgive me, dear Rose, but
would prevent it,"
He spoke in a subdued but agitated
voice. He seated himself beside her,
and leaned, also, forward on the table,
with his hands clasing hers, as he ut
tered these imploring words.
'You would prevent it, Louis.-why? ?
Would you bid me neglect the fulilment
Of duty already too long delayed"
"Ah, Rose, you are about to seal your
fateI Think once more, | beseech you;
there Is time. Break this ideal bondage;
be silent, and forget the VOWS that are
no longer binding. Do not bring this
great sorrow to my uncle, who loves you
so; do not break up this happy house
hold, which can be no more happy when
you have sacrificed yourself-when you
have left the hearth that is only bright
with your presence, to hide yourself in
obscurity"
The tears were filling her sweet eyes;
q great cry was struggling for utterance
in her breast; but she silenced 1t with n
haIf-despairing effort. She raised her
glance to his.
"You are aware, then, Louis, OF the
object of this interview"
"Ah, too well-too wellv he answered
"for | knew that it must come, sooner
or later, since you adhere to the decision
you once made. But again ask you
do not reveal this secret to my uncle"
ut is not alone my promise to Robin
which l regard, Louis"
you would say that you love him
still, thenY
The tears fell from her eyes; a blush
stole to her fair cheek; her head was
turned aside.
"Ah, no-no! do not say it, Rosew hs
cried, sorrowfully.
"Louis-Lous, this 1t not kind-it is
not like youy" said the young girl, turn.
ing to him again. You know | cannot
break my promise. Do not add to the
sorrow l already feel. must see your
uncle must acknowledge my betrothal
to Robin"
"And render him unhappy, cut Helen
Montauban to the very heart, leave me
wretched-miserable! Rose, listen tc
me-"
Louis, be silent, / entreatw she ut
tered, withdrawing her hand from his
while the crimson glow Of consciousness.
and timidity suffused her countenance
"have pity on me"
Rose, one instant Let me speak FOL
the last time. l love you; would asI
you to be my wife! Nay-do not star
and turn away from me. Hear me to tn,
end. How can bear to see you-you
Rose, who should move among the high
admired by all-who should have q
command the thousand luxuries 10
which you were born-who should oc
cupy, finally. a position and enjoy al
vantages suited to your beauty, you
grace, your refinement, your intellect
how can | bear to see you the wife o
peasant? All, be merciful to mel b.
Just to yourself; awake from this fata
trance; for you are dreaming, Rose
He spoke with strange energy. Hi
tones thrilled through her; his glanc
sought hers, waiting for an answer, witt
an earnestnesS-an anxiety that con
fused her. A feeling OF taintness stol
over her; she put her hand to her brow
all was strange bewilderment about her
Still his eyes were fixed upon her; sti
he watched eagerly. But over his lip
stole the palor Of death; his fine bro'
grew cold and white as marble itseli
and on it stood the very dew Of agony.
You yield. theny' he said, in a voic
choked with emotion.
"Yieldr' She rose slowly from he