Condon globe. (Condon, Gilliam Co., Or.) 189?-1919, 1904-02-25
CHAPTER II.

when LucIan Courtlandt arrived NJ RIOS,
mont with letters Of introduction 20 Co
Couramont. Being a rising young Law
yer OF promise, he had been intruste
with sundry important claims Of North
ern capitalists. Much Of the propert
he was In search Of lay along the shore
Of the Alabama river. and what NOR
natural than that be should be well sup
piled with letters Of introduction 70 th
Neadlng planters and gentlemen Of Innu
enee In the yiclnItyf
Foremost and most inAuential anon
these persons stood Col Couramont, III,
descendant Of an illustrioua French fam
lily, who, twenty years previous 10 th,
| opening OF our narration, had come from
Isoulalana with his year.old motherles
daughter in his arms, and had purchas
ed and had settled upon the grand co
tate Of RosemQnt.
lie was reputed 10 be fabuioual,
wealthy, aud certainly his course Of III,
bore evidence that the nupposition wat
correct. lie held high state at the Hall
his beautiful daughter was educated By
resident masters Of ability. aud was al
ways attired In imported costumes Tn,
colonel owned colony Of slaves 10 whom
he was kind aud considerate master
was the very soul Of hospitality to the
occasional guests that sought the shelter
ot his roof, aud was accounted a happy
man.
His love for his beautiful daughter
was the one absorbing passion Of his life
he loved and watched over her with q
jealous, almost fearful pride, which did
not eacape the comment Of the hum blesl
Of his neighbora.
10 the outward world he was a proud
and happy man, though II would have
been evident 10 q close observer that his
mind, for some mysterious reason, was
not at peace. II was evident that he
dreaded TO be left q moment alone, while
the light that invariably burned In his
chamber at night had become a Landmark
to all belated wayfarers. Wac he walk
Ing, thinking or reading, during those
lonely night watcheu1
In point Of fact. Francois Couramont
was not happy man; he bore up brave.
" for bis daughters sake but as the
years we're added unto him, the lines of
care we're deepened upon his brow, and
too often the morning sun shone into
haEgard eyes From this IL may be in
ferred that some secret sorrow or dread
gnawed. day and night, at his heart
that Francois Couramont was a haunted
man.
ParadoxicaI as Il may appear, Col
Couramont rather encouraged the ad-
vancea Of his scapegrace nephew, Oscar.
The young mans dissipated habits were
no secret to him, and yet he repeatedly
assisted him when embarrassed, and took
special pains to throw him into his
daughters company. Sylphide hated os-
car Couramont from the Rrst, and did
everything In her power to shun him
when at Rosemont.
You seem TO forget that Oscar In your
COUSIN" the colonel gently demonstrated
upon one occasion.
Il am trying TO forget II as fast as
can" was the impulsive rejolnder.
''And yet l would be glad to see you
friends" urged the father. "Your inHu.
ence might reform--might save him.
Could you love him"
Sylphlde cut him short with an impe-
rious gesture. She had drawn herself
up to her full height, her black eyes
flashed fire, and her supple frame fairly
quivered with the passion that at times
was ungovernable.
Love himw she cried, furiously. II
hate him, hate him, do you hear? And
IL you love me, you win never again
mention his infamous name In my pres
ence. II you think so much of him, be-
queath him your entire property, but
leave me my liberty"
And she swept out of the room like
an outraged queen. The colonel bent his
head, and scalding tears blinded his sight,
30 he stretched, his arms heavenward,
crying;
"How am punished! This fatal pride
will prove my ruin, Some day she will
love with all the strength of her pas
sionate nature, and then-and then--oh,
what a coward l am! ought to tell her
Of the cloud which overshadows her life,
but cannot l love her SO, how can l
see her wilt at my feet like some frost
blighted flower, crushed forever by the
words Of my own lips, oh, no, no! l
nA
The touch of a soft, warm arm about
his neck recalled him with a start to him
self. 1t was Sylphide come back to him,
Her anger had passed like
an April shower, and ahe was all con-
rite affection and tenderness.
Father, darling" she whispered, drop |
ping upon her knees at his side and gent. |
y drawing his hands from his tear wet |
TACT, do not forget that have inner
ted the hot Spanish blood of my moth
II. That mother whom have never
Known, but whom ! love as a saint in
""Yes, yes" he painted, feverishly, ''loye
Ter, revere her memory, for she was
'ure and good-pure as the angels! Oh.
Sylphide, when am dead and Rone,
promise me that you will never lend. an |,
'ar to the tongue of evil gossip. Your
mother was too beautiful, too perfect. to
scape the malice of rivals. But l, charge
'ou, by her memory, by your hope of
heaven, never listen to aught that lying
ongues might say against her."
"Fatherw gy..ssN.s
You know nothing as yet Of the
worlds villainy, but | swear to YOU, here
nd now, as though l, were upon my
eath-bed, your mother was pure and
ood in the sight of heaven, in my sight,
er husband, and beseech you so to love
er that she may watch over you and
ring you home to her bosom in Gods
wn time"
One brief month later Francois Coura-
lont lay speechless upon his death-bed,
nd 1t was only in the moments of dis.
olution, when he lay In his daughters
rms, that his parting breath framed the