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Show jwluit had been the result (.fhK , . ittH '' llER FATHER'S Vk TIM w: "I lu'isf haw in. ,ro time. Will you wait until lo-m uV?" "1 :-;:;)pOH' J if you require it, L-.-t I ::co no u in it. You ought to be ;. Mo t iilo how y.m will act without j thought. It is a simplo question. ; O:: . i'i-o I'ie is your iuth.r's honor and j !iL;pj:i!io:-s your mother's life, and riches f-r yttiuoir. while on the other aide ! t"::jre io nothing but your own fancy. You ni'il't to ho able to choose between the two easily enough." "I iau--t have time. It is a matter of rr-re imports nee to me lhau you say. I vr-it ;:sU t'.'ud to help and direct me." 1-V;:r.v:m j;r;ivo u light lautrh at this, and the girl shrank farther from him. LTo give up dear Paul," she thought, "is enough to break my heart, but to became the wife of this man makes the na-' iii -e unbearable." She io It all her old loathing1 of him return, and if only herself had been in the question, she would a thousand times rMher have gone to death's em-braee em-braee thau his. Well," said Pearson after a little si-lenee. si-lenee. ''it you mu:;t have until to-mor-vow to decide, suppose we fro back." '"I would rather go back alone," Louise Lou-ise replied. "You need not wait for 'Jiut you see, Louise, that would not do. Your parents would suspicion "It shall be as he w;Mte." she runs "and our interview shaM be a short one. Thank Go, i the worst v. ill s- -a be over." The minutes passed, ana the horseman horse-man drew near. Louise, who had rested her faec in her hands, looked n.n again, and as her eyes reached the approaching1 ap-proaching1 lijrure she received a shock that took her breath away, ller heart ceased its beating- and her form trembled trem-bled so that she could hardly support her weight. The man she saw was Paul. Paul come back to her with all his great love beaming from his eyes, liut how different was his comin;: from what she had thought but a few hours before. Then she looked and longed for it as the happiest hour of her life, but now she would rather have seen anyone else. She had hoped, after mak-i mak-i !;! up her mind to accept Pearson's offer, of-fer, to be spared the pain of a meeting with Pant. She attempted to run away and hid somewhere from his eyes, but her limbs refused t bear her, and with shame, remorse re-morse and rit f prnawing at her heart she awaited his approach as a doomed man awaits the end of his .sentence. Paul sprang1 from his horse and with a smiling1 face came forward to ?roet his love. lie opened his arms expecting expect-ing her to nestle u ithin them, but she moved not, and looked not at him. He came up quite close to her and I stopped, lie spoke her name softly, but she made no reply. "Louise," he said again, "do you not 'fiOOD 11V ' SilK H'HMl-I!Er. and his nature was sueh that li coulil not resist the temptation of si:-:v.iv exultuisj over his vanquished rival, l'aul would nave passed on, but l-ear-son prevented him. "I did not know you lia-.l returned. Mr. Markham," Pearson ln ;,-an, '-.ni l I suppose you have been back hut it short time." "I returned last night," Paul lvpliod 'Only last nig-ht? You have foen out to your father':;, I suppose, t'wlay?'' 'I don't know that it is stnyl.i'n;' par-tieularl' par-tieularl' to yon where I hare !,.-eii." Paul answered a little angrily, for he was in no mood to have his ail'aiis meddled with, and especially by or,e who was little more than a stranger. "Oil, of course not," s.ii.l i'eais.m w 1th a light laugh. Though I think I could guess where you have been v, ,-iv 1 to try. How are the t.reens eoiniii on?" . The tone in which this (itesli,,n va-- aslieit to.T-ether with the leerin;;- manner of the speaker implied a direct iiiMiii. and Tatil took it as such, lie Lad. moreover, had an intimation of Pearson's Pear-son's visits to Green's, and he now associated, as-sociated, him in sonic way with Lraiisc'i, conduct and felt inclined to hold him responsible for it. lie was sensiiive, and it required but little to laise lib. temper, and it was not stranire niul-er the. circumstances ih.it Pearson's v.-ords stung Uim, and that he should re-ply sharply. 'If the Greens are anything to you." said he, ''ami yon are anxious to know-how know-how they are coming on, 1 suppose you have the privilege of goingtheiv to find out for yourself." 'Thanks," replied Tearson, 'T shall do as you suggest, and I hope, in fact 1 think my reception there will be different differ-ent from yours." The next instant Pau', had lost all self-control, and with all his strength put into his arm he gave Pearson such a stroke with his fist that it sent him rolling roll-ing to the ground limp and apparently lifeless. Paul did not wait to see what had been the extent of the damage of his stroke, but galloped on, leaving Pearson Pear-son to the care of a couple of men who at that moment drove up in a waon. "Is he dead?" asked one of tiie men as the other bent over the listless body. "I think not," said the other, "but he got a terrible lick, sure, and it will take him a few days to pet over it. Ye had better get him back to town if we can, as there is no place near here to leave him." "Guess we had," replied the first, "but I wonder who that man is that hit him. I saw him strike." "So did I. But whoever he is. you may bet I don't want him to strike ir.e. My! but that was an awful lick, and I'd about as soon be struck by lightning as that man's arm." "Wonder what it yeas about, anyhow?" any-how?" "I don't know, and I guess it don't concern us what it was about. Let's get this chap in the ftr,on and haul him to town, lie needs some sort of attention." at-tention." They raised Pearson up to put him in the wagon, and he opened his eyes and looked about him. "Where am I, and what has happened?" hap-pened?" he asked in a weak voice. . "You're right here," said one of the men, "and it looks as though that chap who hit you come nigh taking your head off. He gave you a terribly black eye, sure." Slowly Pearson began to recall what had happened to him, and he grew angry an-gry and tried to spring up. Hut he fotind that he had sustained a greater injury than he had thought. One of his limbs had caught under him when he fell, and had been thrown out of position. posi-tion. With a cry of pain he sank back to the ground. Curse Paul Markham," he muttered. "He has put me in a nice pickle, and laid me up for a week", perhaps, w hen there is not a day to lose." The men got him in the wagon, and within an hour left him in bed in his room at Magic City. fTo be continued In onr next. know I am here'.'" Still she neither spoke to him nor looked at him, but sat with her face buried in her hands w hile the tears streamed throuh h.-r tiiv -ers. Paul was nonplused eoneoh i, lv. He kneiv not w hat to mal.e of thi., re,-. -pi ion. Louise." he cor.i inue.l, after a short silence, "what does this menu ? Have you no welcome for me? Will yon not speak to in. '.'" till. Paul, Paul," Louise cried. "Why did you come? Why do you stay to break- n.y heart now? Oh, God! oh, God! this is. move than 1 can bear!" ller words were . so impassioned, her manner so vehement, that Paul was struck with awe. lie could not understand under-stand her meaning, and was at a loss to account for such Irreconcilable conduct. She showed plainly by her tone and actions that her love for him was not dead, while by her w ords she only too plainly manifested a desire to escape him. lie knew not what to think of her what to make of the change in her, After a short silence, he said: "Louise, I cannot understand you. There is something wrong with you, but 1 am unable to account for it. I never dreamed that I should receive such a welcome as this on my return to you. Xever a day, since I left you, has passed without thoughts of you and this meeting thronging through my mind. I have dreamed of it by night. Hut I never thought we should meet thus. Louise, tell me what has wrought this change." He paused for a reply, but none came. She longed to tell him all and allow to him that her heart was unchanged, un-changed, but she dared not. ller lips must remain sealed, and with r. Great effort she kept down the longing of her soul. Seeing that she was not going to speak, Paul continued: "For God's sake, Louise, say something. some-thing. This suspense is worse than death. Tell me what you mean, and why yon act as you do. I do not believe be-lieve yon hare forgotten your love for me. There must be some secret cause for all this. Tell me what it is." "Oh, Paul," cried Louise, "do not ask me. I can tell you nothing, nothing. Only spare me, Paul. Go away and spare me the bitterest trial of my life." The girl's tone was piteous. It was as that pi one pleading for life. Paul was struck by it, and forgetting the pangs that were "wrenching his own soul, he felt his heart go out to her in pity as well as love. "Louise," he said, "I would spare you all pain possible, but I cannot leave you like this. I love you to-day more than ever I loved you before, and I feel, I know that you oye m;. I must know, the cause of your action. J will not leave you until I do know." "I cannot tell you, Paul. I must not. You must go away from me and never see me again. That is all I can say."- "Be reasonable, Louise, and remember remem-ber that I have a heart. Remember that I can feel apd that every word you speak pierces me like a knife." "Then leave mo and do not make me say more. God knows I would spare you the agony of this meeting." "Must we part, Louise?" "Yes, yes; and never meet again." "Is it your wish?" "It is." "And you will not tell me why?" "Xo, I cannot do that." -i "Then it shall be as you wish. I will go away, and I promise not to see you again. But Louise, I will never forget yon. You have this day broken my spirit, destroyed my happiness and wrecked my brightest hope, but I will love you still. I little thought that the great purpose that lias cheered me on to the greatest efforts I was capable of making should come to this. For your eake and in the hope of one day claiming you for my wife, I have applied myself well to my studies, and I have graduated with honor. I have done everything for your sake, and the guiding purposs pf my life has been to gain a home fit for you. But now, that is ail at an end. My hopes are blasted in one short hour and my castles have fallen down, you say that you will never be mine?'7 "I can never marry yon, Paul." "Then good-by, Louise," and as Taul spoke he advanced and reached out his hand. something, and if you are to take this r tep to save them, they must not know-it. know-it. Yon w ould not w ant them to know it." "Xo, I would not," she said. "But before we go, I must make one more" appeal to you. 1 must beg yon on my knees to save them and spare me," and as Louise spoke she kneeled before him, and witlt clasped hands and streaming eyes begged 'piteowsly for merey at his hands. lie let her proceed to a finish, then with a shake of his head, replied: "It is useless, JT.onise. I am resolved and nothing can change my purpose. 1 will come back to-morrow, audi shall expect your answer then. If you decide de-cide to accept my oifer, I want you to be rea.lv to go away with me to-morrow night. We w ill leave a letter explaining ex-plaining everything to your parents, and after getting married at Magie City we will take a train for the west wii.-re we will spend a few months. I have a reason for going away which I cannot explain now, but w hich I will tell you later. Xow yout know all my plans, and if you deckle to be my wife y.c.i know what you will have to do, and vou mast make your arrangements ae-eoc.itngly. ae-eoc.itngly. Xow if j on are ready we j will return to the house." "Mr. Pearson, can I not reach your heart i.nd prevail on you to be more incrciiiii.'" Louise asked. -Xo. I tell j-ou it is useless to talk. I am not io be influenced from my purpose. pur-pose. You can marry me and insure the welfare of those you love, or you can refuse me and let them take the c,,nsef-.ienees." Without another word Louise arose, and in silence they walked back. Tear-son Tear-son stopped only long enough to admonish admon-ish Louise that she must positively decide de-cide by the morrow, then mounted his horse and rode away to Magie City. lie knew what her decision' would be, and foi: secure of his prey as secure of it as though he had it already within his grasp. Lie knew that Louise would not sacrifice her parenls. CHAPTER XXIII. tut: SEar-Ex's vtctohy. All that day and all the night following fol-lowing there was a bitter conflict raging rag-ing within Louise's heart. Her soul revolted re-volted at the thought of giving herself up to a man she so utterly loathed as she did Pearson, and she found it hard to bring herself to the great sacrifice. She felt that in joining her life with his she bade farewell to the last vestige of happiness and hope, and plunged into a never-ending gulf of misery. She realized fully the awful results of the step she was asked to take, and the whole future rose up before be-fore her a picture of the blackest hue. And yet, she reasoned, the step must be taken. The sacrifice must be made. It was not only her duty to save her parents, but she felt that it ought to be a pleasure. She felt that she ought to be glad to suffer anything for the sake of those whom she so dearly loyed. She tried to persuade herself that being able to serve them so well, at even this great cost, was a blessing for which she should feel thankful. Reasoning thus she would almost succeed in reconciling recon-ciling herself to her f ate, when there would come up in her mind recollections recollec-tions of Paul, and she would Jose all the resolution she had gained. "Poor Paul, poor Paul," she would Erroan, "what will you think of me after such a base deed? You will never, never know that I did it for the sake of my father and mother. Oh, God, to make the sacrifice and lose Paul forever for-ever is enough to kill rae, but to know that I am misjudged by him, arid believed be-lieved by him to be false and heartless, is more than I can bear. And yet I must bear it," Thus long the conflict between love and duty raged, and at last duty prevailed pre-vailed and Louise for once and for all decided that the sacrifice should be made. She would surrender everything and become Harry Pearson's wife. Having formed this resolution, she ried to put away all thoughts of Paul ricd to become reconciled to the inevitable, inevit-able, and even attempted to persuade herself that in time sh? would learn to bo happy in her situation. She tried ri hope that she might learn to love .'earson. j After settling the question- so, Louise j loearne calm and quiet, but it was a .ullen calm that comes with defeat ather than, conviction. She went jilllSSIfi lit Louise could almost feel his presence, pres-ence, and -she longed to throw herself in his arms and cry her heart out. Hut she restrained herself, and never so much as looked up. "Won't yon tell me rrood-hy. Louise?'1 Paul ashed. 'Good-by," she murmured. lie said nothing more, but after looking look-ing at her a lonr time he tore his eyes from her and strode rapidly away. She heard him pass through the gate, and a moment later heard his horse, chit; ter away across the prairie. Then she lifted her head from her hand, and with longing eyes looked after his retreating re-treating form until it faded out in the distance, and when she saw him no. longer she placed her hand on her heart and moaned iu the deepest anguish. an-guish. That meeting had been a sore trial' for the poor girl, but she steeled her heart against itself, and with the greatest great-est effort withstood its pleadings. She felt more than once that if the interview inter-view was prolonged she must break down and yive way to her love. Iiut she had como through it safely and the worst was passed. All day she watched and waited for Pearson's visit, but night came on and Pearson failed to appear. Was it possible, pos-sible, she wondered, that he had changed his mind, and that after all she would escape him? But Pearson had not changed his mind, lie remained away for another and a more urgent reason. As Paul galloped back in the direction direc-tion of Magie City he met Pearson on his way to Green's. Pearson recognized Paul and stopped to speak to him. He rightly guessed where Paul had been, and he knew full well from his locfks THE CONFLICT BETWEEN LOVE ATD DOT ;-, RAGED. about her duties with a light step, and a smile lurked about her features. She had one source of genuine satisfaction, and that was the knowledge that she was saving her parents such untold suffering suf-fering and misery. All through the morning hours she kept a watch for Pearson. She dreaded, yet wished for his coming. She would have piven worlds to know that she should never see him again, and yet since Ehe must give herself to him she wished to have it done and over. Slowly the morning hours wore away, and as often as Louise gazed out across the broad expanse ex-panse of prairie nothing (rreeted her vision save the parched plain. At last near noon she saw a horse- |
