The Connecticut labor press., 1920-02-28

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 The words seemed to sting Rosny 1 to the quick. "You are presumptuous monsieur p he cried Perhaps you | too, thought that the heiress went with | the trees?"
 Madeleine cried out and laid her hands appealingly upon her fathers | arm; he did not repulse her, but con. tinued speaking as if he were not con scious of her presence. "She shall never be your wife. You have done harm enough here, mon. sieur. When you are well my caleche to your mill. And henceforward, un. less you claim the last inch of your legal rights to cut about the Chateau which do not think you will" he add. ed with reluctant justice-"let us see you no more."
 You are unjust!" cried Madeleine "We love each other. There exists no reason why we should not love. Mon sieur Askew is as good as any man." "An American!" cried Rosny hotly. ''This is not his country, and our ways
 
 "Yet. you were not too proud to pledge me to that other man, who is not one of us either, except by remote race. Against my will. Without my knowledge"
 "Enough!' cried Rosny. "It is all past!"
 ''The memory is not past. Yes, you pledged me to him and placed the first links of the chain about my neck, hop ing that the understanding to which I was no party, would gradually en- mesh me, capture me, that should be- come his wife and save your land for you"
 The Seigneur turned on her look in which humiliation struggled with anger. He seemed stupefied by her outburst. Hilary interposed.
 Monsieur Rosny, love Madeleine, and intend to marry her." he said calmly. But I realize your feelings, and I understand how great shock this has been. You invited me to de part when am we'll. I am well enough to depart now. But I shall return. to see her and to plead our cause frank ly with you. There exists now no reason, no valid reason-'
 You shall never come here !" thun- dered the Seigneur, losing all self-con- trol. 'The day when sold your uncle the timber rights over my land was the most evil day of my life. Golf you are we'll, go! My caleche is ready for you. Go, monsieur, in Gods name, and trouble me no longer!' F He raised his voice and shouted, "Robitaille! Robitaille!"
 From some place in the recesses of the Chatueau feeble, quavering cry answered him. And through the door way Hilary saw the ancient serving man come shuffiing to obey his master.
 And, as he looked at him, his re- sentiment died. The two old men Rosny in his brown swallow-tails and the tight trousers strapped under his boots, Robitaille, in the faded buffers uniform, seemed playing a part, acting in some scene laid in the long past. Or, rather, they were the past. They had no place in the modern world, those ancient figures in their ancient dress, and with their ancient ways. They cumbered the stage of life, lin- gering there when their exits were long overdue. They were unreal as phantom figures glimpsed in wild dream. Pity for the two futile old men choked Hilary's throat. He could feel nothing but that as he watched Robitaille come to the door, bobbing and shuf1ing, with stiffened joints that made him more like marionette.
 But he felt, too, the urgency of talk ing Madeleine away, into a world of reality, before the same dream in fected her.
 She came up to Hilary softly and placed her fingers on his arm, looking into his face wistfully.
 "You must go, dear, and not try to convince him now," she said. ''It has been terrible blow to him. He looks so i'll. I am afraid for him. I shall come to you tomorrow and tell you"
 "Robitaille," said the Seigneur, Monsieur Askew has decided, much to my grief, to leave this afternoon. You will have the goodness to pack his things and to prepare the caleche for him. You will drive him to the mill"
 The old man muttered acquiescence and shuffled away. Hilary turned to- ward Rosny. Frankly he held out his hand. The action might have been ill., timed, but it responded to his deep seated feeling. But Rosny did not seem to see the gesture He stood staring across the room, one hand clutching his spreading collar, and his face, which had been white and red, was purple.
 Hilary turned away. He had reached the door when he heard a sound as if Rosny was clearing his throat. Then Madeleine cried out in fear. Hilary turned, to see Rosny sit heavily down in his chair. His eyes closed, his arms dropped over the sides; his head fell on his breast.
 Hilary ran to him. He was uncon- scious, and breathing heavily. Hilary tried to raise him, to carry him to the sofa, but the man seemed made of iron as he lay, dead weight, in Hilary's arms.
 At Madeleine's cry old Robitaille had turned, too, and he came shuffiing back. As he perceived his master ly- ing in the chair he began to utter wild, cries.
 His father went that way" he mumbled. q always knew he'd go like that. Forty-five years I've served him.