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daughter. It is my duty to tell tills woman to what
manner of man she is giving herself.”
Julian Deveaux caught him by the arm, greatly
agitated, and exclaiming, “John, if you only knew
how I have worshipped her all these months, how
I would willingly lay down my life for her, you
would know, without asking me, that I would give
up a thousand Ariane’s without a. sigh of regret.
Os course I shall send Ariane back to Paris at once.
I shall be to my wife all that even you could de
mand. I swear it, John. Only wait till you have
seen her, then you can understand. We must hasten.
Mr. Douglas is sinking rapidly.”
Reluctantly John accompanied him to the Doug
las home. As he reached the door of the dying
man’s room, and looked upon the scene, he paused.
Christiana was kneeling by her father, with her
arms about him, as if trying to hold him upon earth.
Julian went to her and raised her up in his arms,
whispering: “Darling, the minister has come. Have
your father bless me as his son before he leaves
us. The doctor says he must go soon.”
Christiana turned her face toward John Marsden,
and looked full into his eyes, with an appealing,
imploring look, which gave his whole being a sensa
tion he had never before experienced. No woman
had ever aroused in him any emotion, save that love
he had for all mankind as brothers and sisters
in the great human family. Therefore, he knew not
how to analyze his emotions now. If he had been
called upon to define them, he would have pro
nounced them as pity and sympathy. Whatever
name they might begiven, the desire of his whole
soul was to take her in his arms and soothe, against
his own, her breaking heart. It made him shudder
to see Deveaux’s arms about her. There was no time
for hesitation. Mr. Douglas whispered, “Hasten
the minister, my children. God does not wait. He is
calling. Let me give you my blessing as my last
words upon earth.”
“Come, John,” said Mr. Deveaux.
The words were pronounced, making Julian Dev
eaux and Christiana Douglas husband and wife.
Their hands caught the father’s raised in blessing,
but as his lips opened to utter the words, his head
fell back, and with a gasp, he was dead.
Mr. Douglas was buried beside his wife down in
the valley at the old homestead. John remained at
Julian’s urgent request, and assisted with the fun
eral ceremonies.
Christiana was stunned by the blow. She never
moved except as her husband took her in his arms
and assisted her. She turned to him and loved him
because her father had loved him so. Through dark
hours that followed, nothing aroused her, no peace
or rest came to her heavy heart, until as the last
flower had been lovingly laid by her aunt upon the
mound under which her father’s body rested, the
last word had been said, the funeral procession was
moving away, something impelled John Marsden’s
sweet, rich young voice to soar upward with the
words of his favorite hymn:
“Nearer my God to thee,
Nearer to thee,
E’en though it be a cross
That raiseth me.
“Still all my song shall be,
Nearer my God to thee,
Nearer my God to thee,
Nearer to thee.”
Christiana raised her head and looked upward.
The sound touched her heart. She had never heard
a human voice with such melody and sweetness in
it to her. She was aroused to the depth of the mean
ing and beauty of the words, and the strains seemed
to become a part of her own heart’s cry. She felt
some silent chord just awakened in her soul which
now vibrated throughout her whole being. She held
out her hand to John Marsden, as if to draw that
inspiration and comfort nearer to her.
“Please sing that over again,” she whispered.
How his voice quivered and vibrated, and rose
with yet greater sweetness and volume as he sang
The Golden Age for April 5, 1906.
lhe words of that divine song of inspiration and
praise.
When he had finished, she looked into his face
with a wan smile of recognition. He released her
hand and turned away from her with a sobbing
heart. Hastening into a carriage which had driven
him from the village, he urged the driver to the ut
termost speed that he might catch the next train
due in Monteagle.
He told no one good-by, but was just stepping
on the train which would leave in half a minute,
when Julian Deveaux hurriedly drove up, calling:
“John, John! One moment.” He rushed upon
the steps of the car and caught him by the arm.
“ What does this mean, John?”
“It means that I shall return on this train to
New York.”
“Why this hasty departure? I must see you be
fore you return. I have a favor to ask of you. I
would trust no one but you to assist me in persuad
ing Ariane Bouvier away from New York.”
“That is a matter with which I refuse to have
anything to do. Good-by. I pray God to bless you
both.”
The train rolled away. Deveaux jumped off just
in time to avoid being hurled to the ground.
Julian Deveaux’s plans were all changed. He de
cided not to return to Now York. He would take
■Christiana elsewhere until her face resumed its
brightness and beauty. Then, too, he feared Ariane
Bouvier, and the scenes she might make upon
bearing of this sudden marriage. He decided to take
Christiana abroad for a year. Then he would return
to New York to live as would be expected of Julan
Deveaux and his wife.
He consulted Mrs. Wayland about all his plans.
She raised no objections to anything he proposed,
for she knew it would be useless. This marriage
hurt her more than her brother’s death.
iShe was very quiet about it, knowing that it was
too late for her objections to be of any avail. It
was all a mystery to her. She could not understand
why her brother had not confided in her regarding
a matter of such importance.
One of Julian Deveaux’s first acts was to write
a letter to Ariane Bouvier, telling her of his mar
riage, and revealing to her in no uncertain terms
that all connection between them must be forever
severed, that she must at once leave his apartments
and that it would even be better for her to leave
New York. He also stated that he had instructed his
lawyer to settle all his business matters with her,
and that she must not again write or try to com
municate with him in any way, for she would gain
nothing by it, as he was to leave America imme
diately for Europe, to remain an indefinite time.
It was a heartless letter, worthy of a man of his
type. Its reception made her frantic; then followed
all the grief and chagrin of which she was capa
ble. She at once set her whole mind upon revenge.
He settled a comfortable living upon her, on the
condition that she leave New York. She scorned the
money he had left to bind up the wounds of a cast
off affection. She felt that nothing could repay her,
and revenge became her one motive in life.
CHAPTER XI.
“There comes
Forever something between us and what
We deem our happiness.”
—Byron.
“Paris! Paris! Paris!” As Christiana heard this
shouted by a railway guard one beautiful morning
in October, and as she looked out upon this gay city,
she wondered if she were dreaming. Had it not been
for the smiling face of an adoring husband, eager
to catch an expression of returning interest in the
world about her, it would have been hard to con
vince her that it was real. Not one smile had been
seen upon her face since the shock of those last
days in Monteagle. He had been tenderly and de
votedly solicitious. She appreciated this, thought her
appreciation was love, and clung to him in her
grief.
They were driven to temporary quarters, until
desirable apartments could he secured. After a few
days of quiet and rest, he began showing Chris
tiana the sights of Paris; but before one-tenth had
been reviewed, with a deep sigh, and tremulous
voice, she pleaded, “Julian, let me rest for a few
days, a few weeks; I am so tired. Paris looks to
me like a gay picture with no soul. Just shut me in
my room and let me rest alone, while you go and
enjoy it.”
“No, darling, I am not happy away from you.
Let us look for a house. You know we must have a
home, even in Paris. We may remain here for a
year, or more. It certainly will give you something
to be interested in, to have a lovely home all your
own. Will it not, dearest?”
“0, Julian, I could not keep a house here.”
“But, dearest, you shall have no care. We will
have a housekeeper, and you shall have your own
maid and trained servants for every department of
the entire house.”
One of the best houses in the Faubourg was leas
ed. It was an old historic house whose salon had en
tertained the beauty and chivalry of France. The
amount of the rent for one year seemed quite a for
tune to Christiana, and it was hard for her at first
to realize that she was the wife of a millionaire.
As yet the knowledge aroused in her no feeling of
joy or pride. By degrees, however, she began to
feel proud of and interested in her magnificent
home.
Julian Deveaux was well known in Paris. His
own appearance would attract attention anywhere,
but when he was accompanied by a most beauti
ful woman, seated in a faultless equipage drawn by
a magnificent pair of thoroughbreds, they created
no little sensation. They were soon the recipients
of many attentions. As soon as if was known that
the Deveaux’s were on friendly footing with the
United States ambassador to France, the doors of
society were thrown open to them, and it was with
many expressions of regret that Parisian society
learned of Mrs. Deveaux’s mourning and seclusion.
It was incredible that a man of Deveaux’s past
life and character should have been content with
a life of seclusion for months, and have been so
devoted to his broken-hearted girl wife. For the
time he showed her only the best of his whole be
ing. Naturally she was proud of him, thinking him
an ideal man and husband, and she gave to him
the deepest gratitude and devotion.
When t he gladness of spring shed its beauty over
the earth, Christiana seemed to imbibe new life.
By degrees her husband persuaded her to accompany
him to various sights and places of amusement. She
attended her first theatre. It was very wonderful to
her. It was a comedy. She forgot herself, forgot her
past, forgot everything save what she saw enacted.
Mr. Deveaux was overjoyed to hear laughter ripple
from her lips. He sat looking into her face, finding
keener pleasure in watching her delight, than look
ing upon the play which was old to him. He seldom
even glanced at the stage. But one of the actresses
drew so near to his box she attracted his attention.
An oath escaped his lips. Christiana had deemed
him incapable of profanity, and gave him a look
of horrified surprise. He quickly assumed compos
ure, while he inwardly ground his teeth, for the
woman was Ariane Bouvier. She continued to act,
dance and sing for his benefit alone. She was be
ginning to have revenge.
As they drove home from the theatre, for the
first time Christiana saw her husband much disturb
ed. He swore at the coachman. Everything seemed
to irritate him. To her he said: “Annie, forgive
my rudeness. I lost all control in my fury with that
actress for causing me to be the target of such
marked attention. ’’
“Do you know her, Julian?”
“As an actress, yes.”
(Continued next Week.)
Professor R. Odden Doremus, for thirty years a
noted chemist and poison expert, died in New York
on March 22d.
15