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4. CHAPTER IV.

The loud, crashing music of the orchestra, pealed through the gergeous
halls of the St. Louis, and sounds of mirth and festivity reached
their ears as they alighted at the thronged door. As they reached
the hall the floor was already occupied by the dancers, and the noise
and glare of chandeliers, and the motion of the restless crowd was
bewildering.

`Come this way, Alice,' said her father, `I wish to introduce you
to the Count Bondier, who has expressed a desire to become acquainted
with you. He is of a distinguished French family, and I wish
you to be civil to him. Perhaps I may as well tell you that I wish


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him to make your alliance, and that for so good a match your Boston
lover had best be no more thought of.'

This was whispered in her ear as the crossed the hall to an alcove
where Colonel May had discovered the foreigner.

If Alice had not been a girl of a strong mind and independent native
character, she would have sunk through the floor at this annonncement.
As it was she trembled like an aspen leaf, and internally
resolved to hate him. He was presented to her, and coldly yet
politely received. He was a good looking Frenchman, about thirty
with an air of high fashion. He was at once struck with the charms
of which he had heard so much; and Colonel May taking an opportunity
to desert his daughter, left her dependant on the Count for a protector
in the throng. He offered his arm which she knew not how to
decline in her unprotected state, and accepted. He found her disinclined
to converse, and proof against his compliments. After trying
his best for half an hour to entertain her and get into her good graces—for
the Count's estates were under mortgage, and the young
Louisiana belle was an heiress—he began to despair. At length her
father reappeared, and she flew to his arm in a way that convinced
him of the difficulty of getting a titled son-in-law. In her presence
he invited the Count to dine with them the next day; an invitation
which he accepted, it seemed to her, with great pleasure.

This event so embittered the hours of the assembly that Alice at
length prevailed on her father, on the plea of ill health, to retire with
her. The ensuing day the Count came, and Colonel May studied to
leave him alone with her. But coldness and distance alone characterized
her manner in his presence.

Day after day he was a visitor to Lauvidais, and daily pressing his
suit by every attention and every gentle device in love's armory—but
in vain. At length he made a bold stroke and addressed her. She
refused him civilly but firmly. This enraged her father, who threatened,
unless she gave her consent to marry him within three months,
he would deprive her of her inheritance, and shut her up in a convent.

`Give me half that time to decide,' said she with firmness.

`I grant it Alice; and expect at the end of the period that you will
be prepared to comply with my wishes, and those of Mr. Bondier,
who is devoted to you. Your alliance with him will place you in the
best society in Paris!'


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On her father's departure, Alice fastened her chamber door, and
setting down to her escritoire, wrote the following letter;


Dearest Edward,—

I write to avail myself of my privilege and duty as your betrothed
wife, to throw myself, at a crisis which has just occured in my life,
upon your love! A certain Count Bondier is persecuting me with
his attentions, and althogh I have in every way, not absolutely to
insult him, shown him my repugnance to his suit, and also distinctly
and firmly declined his addresses, yet he pursues them encouraged by
my father, who is warmly in favor of an alliance with his powerful
family through me. My father has just left me with the menace that
unless I will consent to marry him at the end of three months, that
he will immure me in a convent, which God knows is to be prefered.
I have asked and obtained six weeks to decide. This letter will reach
you in two. It will take three for you to reach here. I need not ask
you to fly—for my love tells me you will soon be here to claim your
own lover's bride.

Alice.'

This letter was received by Edward Orr in less than two weeks after
it was penned, and its perusal gave him intense agony. He made
instant preparations to proceed South, to rescue her from her fate
but before his departure he received another letter—it was but a single
line.

I have just heard something that has frozen my blood! I write, I
know not what! Do not come! I am lost to you forever!

Alice May.'

Edward gazed at the words with a glazed eye. What fearful mystery
was this! What had happened? `I will know the worst.—
Lost to me forever! No! she cannot be false! I will fly to her—
for assuredly some dreadful evil hath befallen her. How wild and
large the writing! so unlike her usual hand—yet it is hers! Alice, I
heed not your command! I fly to you!'

With this determination the almost phrenzied lover sprang into the
carriage and drove to the depot, his mind tortured with the mystery,
his heart bleeding with the agony of suspense.