Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 483 — page 8: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ore 6é Ah 1)” ** Yes, I know all.” ‘* What would I say?” ‘*’You would tell me that you love my child.” *¢ True,” ** And ask her hand of me ” 66 Yes,” ‘*T have seen this coming for days, Requier and [ could do nothing; but now I must speak.’ ** Well?” ** T could never consent.” ** Miss Kenyon will marry me, I feel assured, if you consent, as soon as she has found out how worthless a fellow her lover is.” ** What know you of him?’ quickly asked the planter. ‘I know him, and that he lives in St. Louis, “ft have been there since I left here, three months ago, and I know all about him. ‘‘He pretends to be living an honest life, but he is gambling, and that is his only means of wath while he is very dissipated. **T knew kim as a boy, and I met him in St. Louis, and he to!d me of his love for your daugh- ter and of his misfortunes. ‘*He did not, of course, know that I even know yoru; but he said that he was making some money by gambling, and would come some day to claim his lady-love, and after she became his wife he would reform. ** Now, you know, he should reform /irst, or he never will. “I have not told your daughter this, but * leave it for you to do, only do not tell her where you got your information.” ‘*T will not; and I thank you, Regnier; but then, you are double the age of my child, and she certainly does not love you.” ** No, her first love is for that wretch Casan- dra, and I will have to win her love after she has cast him out of her heart. ‘* Now promise me to say and do all you can in my behalf.” - Y ednnot.” ‘Why?’ 2 fe [I do not wish my child to marry ‘6 Bah!” ‘She is young, beautiful, rich, and she will get over her love for this unworthy object, and marry some noble young fellow yet.” **T love her with all my soul, Kenyon, and wish to marry her.” ‘*No; I will tell her of Casandra, and then take her to England again, remaining there un- til her brother completes his education at the’ university ” ‘* No, you must give her to me.” **T will not.” " Cyle Kenyon, let me recall the past to ou!’ ne No, no! do not do that!” “We were chums together: you a senior, I a freshman, at college. ‘You were rich and lived in luxury, while I, a poor parson’s son, was a pauper, and was giv- en my tuition, ‘My father died, and my sister—an adopted sister, but one I loved as though she were my kkin—came to live in my little home. ‘*'You remember our home, two small bed- Reig -_ one large sitting-room and kitchen combined, ‘* My sister—for [ knew no other love for her —was content, but I was wretched, because I was poor, - ** You remember her, Cyle, with her great black eyes and lovely face? ** Poor Ruth! I often recall her—” ‘¢ For God’s sake, Regnier, do not say more,” fairly groaned the planter. ‘*T must have my say, Cyle. ** One day you saw my sister, and you at once wished to know her, ‘*T took you to tea one evening. “It was an humble supper, but you enjoyed it and stayed late. : ‘You were the same age as my sister, while I was younger, and hardly understood what you talked of. ‘* After that you came often, and one night you + ae our little room in company with a friend. ‘You had been drinking deeply, and you urged Ruth to go with you to be married, that very night. ‘**T was ambitious then, Cyle, and I urged her rn and she consented, for she joved you devot- y- ‘*Thus you were married; but when you be- came sober you cursed your act and you hated my sister and myself. . ‘Poor Ruth, she departed from our little home, and she went off to get work elsewhere, . ae ent etembemeeon ey ee 9 tele. oe al aint ame See ae : — oe” lt ee > ae ete ie et a tt a A EE A I A Cf At ay. + —— A Cabin Boy’s Luck. far from you, for she had pride, Kenyon, and she showed it. ‘* But she had loved too deeply, and alas! she never got over the shock of finding that she would not have been your choice,” ‘* My dear Regnier, I well know what she suf- fered through me, and how ycu too must have suffered for her. ‘*But I have suffered bitter remorse for my act, and long after your letter telling me that she had gone from this life in despair, I lay ill, expected to die by all, ‘But I recovered, and my wild life was given up, and I have since then been aman; butnever can I forget my crime in deserting that poor loving girl, as I did, and I feel that Lam guilty, as having caused her death.” ‘** Kenyon, let me tell you again, that I love your daughter, and I wish you to urge her to be my-wife, ; ‘** Il beg it of you, and yet tell you frankly that ou would not like this act of yours in the past e known.” ‘* For God’s sake, no!” ‘‘ And more, Kenyon, I did not write you the exact truth in saying that Ruth had gone from this life in despair. ‘*T meant to convey the idea that she had died, when really she had given up the world for a convent.” Cyle Kenyon staggered backward, and but for a tree ncar, would have gone over the cliff to his death. Springing to his side, Merton Regnier grasped his arm, and said: ‘*My God, man, arouse yourself!” ** Ts she dead or not?” ‘* No; she lives in a convent.” ‘* And Lhave since married, believing her dead. ** Oh, God! oh, God! have mercy!” ‘* Kenyon, no one knows this secret but I, for all believe Ruth to be dead, as she so determined that they should. ‘This secret I will keep; but I beg of you, having suffered, look upon my love for your daughter, and give your consent to her becom- ing my, wife.” ‘* Regnier, it is not for me to say nay, if you can win the love of my child, knowing all, and I will not.” ** And you will urge her to accept me?” **T will not say one word but in your favor.” ‘‘Thank you, Kenyon.” And the two men walked back together from the cliff. That night the mail came, and in it was a letter from Kate’s anonymous correspondent, telling her of the deeds of Carl Casandra in the West, and a St. Louis paper with a notice in it that the gambler, Carl Casandra, had won a large sum of money from a planter, who had attacked him in a frenzy, and met his death at the hands of the gambler, ‘He is indeed unworthy of my love, and I will tear his mage from my heart, and to help me do so, I will pledge myself to Merton Reg- nier,” said Kate. And the next day the South Carolinian de- parted with Kate’s pledge to become his wife. CHAPTER XIIT. THE MEETING ON THE CLIFF. It seemed strange, very strange, to Kate Ken- yon that the past two years had made such a change in her life. * With her brother at home, and her mother living, she had been as free as a bird, with only thought for enjoyment and to pass her merry life away. But death stalked into the household, and it took her loved mother, and the first grief of her life fell upon the young girl. Abroad they went, the father and his two children, and the dear old home was left de- serted. Traveling in foreign lands, Kate Kenyon had seve up her hoydenish life and become a dig- ified young lady. Then came the parting with her brother, the return to the desolate home, and next the fear- ful tempest that had brought back the courage of yore to her, and made her do the bravest deed of her life, Out of that act love had sprung, and then the one she had given her heart to was found to be unworthy. Next, a man, her father’s boyhood companion, came and offered his love, and burying the bitter past in the inmost depths of her heart, she had promised to wed this strange, fascinating man, who was old enough to be her father. How all had changed for her, and for the worst. Such were her thoughts one evening as she sat sls : LLL LLL RL LR LLL LL - ee eee ee -t— SR ee ee — upon the cliff enjoying the sunset view, and ob- serving the movements of a small schooner-of- war that lay becalmed hardly a mile off-shore. She had gazed with admiration upon the sym- metry of the vessel, and noted that every rope and spar was in its place, and that the craft seemed to be held under thorough discipline. Long-hulled, lying low in the sea, narrow and without doubt very deep, she looked like an ocean racer, for her tall masts and long spars showed that she could spread an immense amount of canvas. ¢ As darkness came on the striking of eight bells was borne across the waters to the ear of the maiden, and then alight glimmered here and there about the vessel. Her father was away, and would not return until late, and as the moon was just rising ouw of the blue waters of the bay, Kate would not return to the mansion, She felt very blue, and the shadow upon her life she could not shake off. She was dressed in pure white, and among the trees upon the cliff, as the rising moon cast its rays upon her, she looked like a ghost standing there in the weird light. After pacing to and fro, the impulse of her thoughts moving her to action, she threw herself upon a rustic seat and for a long time remained motionless. At last her thoughts found vent in words that seemed to rise from her lips like a wail. ‘*Oh, Carl! Carl! where are you this night and why were you false to your vows when | love you so dearly?” ‘* Kate ?” In an instant she was upon her feet, her form trembling with emotion. | ‘‘Oh Heaven have mercy, can he be dead, and was my name, spoken by his lips, one of those strange warnings that sometimes come to us?” she said in a hoarse whisper. ‘‘No, Kate, 1 am not dead, though without your love I would rather be.” She gave a glad cry and sprung toward the tall form that stepped out into the moonlight from the shadow of the trees. ‘Carl! Carl! it is indeed you?” ‘Yes, my beautiful Kate,” he cried, and he would have folded her to his heart, but she drew back quickly, and said haughtily: “Captain Casandra, between your life and mine a great barrier has been set, and we meet as strangers.” ‘* No, no, Kate, you cannot cast me off so, for I heard your words awhile since, and I know that you love me; but why is it you cast me off now?” ‘*'You broke your pledges to me and went to the bad; for ‘had no influence oyer you.” ‘** Ah, Kate, misfortune overtook me, and I went away to earn a fortune to return and lay it at your feet. ‘‘ T have heen successful beyond my brightest anticipations, and I come now to claim you.” ‘‘ Car] Casandra,*the fortune you have won you have gotten at the gaming-table, and I would rather die than have you offer me gold thus gotten. ‘““Tt would be on a par with love that was false.” ‘‘Kate, you bitterly wrong me, for I have not touched a card in long months, nor have I won one dollar in gaming. ‘‘ How I have made my money you shall some day know, but not now, ‘¢T know that your father has cast me off,and . that I have few friends now; but I deemed you true, and I came to tell you that I love you more dearly than ever, and ask you to be ready to fly with me far from here.” ‘Sf would not ay from my home, Carl, to be- come your wife, but marry you here, for my father would give his consent if you proved your words, just spoken to me, to be true. ‘¢ Oh, Carl! prove to father that, you are not what men say you are, and all will be well.” ‘© T will prove it.” ‘And soon, Carl, for before very long [am pledged to marry another. : ‘Nay, do no frown so and bite your lips, for I do not love him.” ; ‘‘ Who is he?” hoarsely said Carl Casandra, ‘An old boyhood friend of my father, a South Carolina planter, and a most excellent man. ‘ Believing you were false to your love, when I heard you were false to yourself, I did as fa- ther asked and became engaged to Mr. Merton Regnier.” . ‘“ Ts Merton Regnier his name?” ‘* Yes,” ‘‘ T shall not forget it; but where did you say that he lived?” : : —— \ . >. , *% * .