Lincoln County leader. [volume] (Toledo, Lincoln County, Or.) 1893-1987, 1904-03-18
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CHAPTER III,

mont with letters of introduction to Col.
Couramont. Being a rising young law
yer of promise, he had been intrusted
with sundry important claims of North
ern capitalists. Much of the property
he was in search of lay along the shores
of the Alabama river, and what more
natural than that he should be well sup
piled with letters of introduction to the
leading planters and gentlemen of influ-
ence in the vicinity?
Foremost and most influential among
these persons stood Col. Couramont, the
descendant of an illustrious French fam
lily, who, twenty years previous to the
opening of our narration had come from
Louisiana with his year-old motherless
daughter in his arms. and had purchas-
ed and had settled upon the grand es-
tate of Rosemont.
He was reputed to be fabulously
wealthy ana certainly his course of life
bore evidence that the suppositon was
correct. He held high state at the Hall,
his beautiful daughter was educated by
resident masters Of ability, and was al
ways attired in imported costumes. The
colonel owned colony of slaves to whom
he was kind and considerate master,
was the very soul of hospitality to the
occasional guests that sought the shelter
of his roof, and was accounted happy
man.
His love for his beautiful daughter
was the one absorbing passion Of his life;
he loved and watched over her with a
jealous, almost fearful pride, which did
not escape the comment Of the humblest
of his neighbors.
To the outward world he was a proud
and happy man, though it would have
been evident to a close observer that his
mind, for some mysterious reason, was
not at peace. 1t was evident that he
dreaded to be left a moment alone, while
the light that invariably burned in his
chamber at night had become a landmark
to all belated wayfarers. Was he walk
ing, thinking or reading, during those
lonely night watches?
In point of fact, Francois Couramont
was not happy man; he bore up brave
ly for his daughters sake, but as the
years were added unto him, the lines of
care were deepened upon his brow, and
too often the morning sun shone into
haggard eyes From this it may be in
ferred that some secret sorrow or dread
gnawed, day and night, at his heart
that Francois Couramont was a haunted
man.
Paradoxical as 1t may appear, COL
Couramont rather encouraged the ad-
yances 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 first, and did
everything in her power to shun him
when at Rosemont.
You seem to forget that Oscar is your
COUSIN" the colonel gently demonstrated
upon one occasion.
Il am trying to forget it as fast as 1
can!' was the impusive rejoinder.
And yet | would be glad to see you
friends" urged the father. "Your infiu-
ence might reform-might save him.
Could you love him."
Sylphide 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 him!" she cried, furiously. 81
hate him, hate him, do you hear? And
If you love me, you will never again
mention his infamous name in my pres
ence. If you think so much of him, be-
queath him your entire property, but
leave me my libertyw
And she swept out of the room like
an outraged queen. The colonel bent his
head, and scalding tears blinded his sight,
so 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
sionatc nature, and then-and then-oh,
what coward l am! l ought to tell her
OF the cloud which overshadows her life.
but l cannot. | love her so how can |
see her wilt at my feet like some FROST
blighted flower, crushed forever by the
words of my own lips. Oh, no, no!
cannotV'
The touch of n soft, warm arm about
his neck recalled him with a start to him
self. 1t was Sylphide come back to him.
repentant. Her anger had passed like
an April shower. and she was all con-
trite affection and tenderness.
Father, darling" she whispered, drop.
ping upon her knees at his side and gent.
ly drawing his hands from his tear-wet
fact, do not forget that l have inner.
tied the hot Spanish blood of my moth
er. That mother whom l have never
known, but whom love as a saint in
heavenr'
Yes yes" he painted, feverishly, "loye
her' revere her memory, for she was
pure and good-pure as the angels! Oh.
syiphide, when l am dead and gone
promise me that you will never lend an
ear to the tongue of evil gossip. Your
mother was too beautiful, too perfect TO
escape the malice of rivals. But | charge
you, by her memory. by your hope of
heaven' never listen to aught that living
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