Had his
troubles wrought him this change?
"You do not answer, Rose," he urged complainingly, "Must I then lose your
sympathy, and meet the ordeal alone?"
"No, no. I will be with you," she cried, quickly.
"As my wife?"
Again she was silent, trembling like a leaf.
"Speak."
"Yes," falteringly, "as your wife, August."
The words seemed to have been forced from her lips.
She regretted them as soon as uttered. Weak and faint, she leaned heavily
on his arm for support.
He led her tottering to Mrs. Bordine and said:
"Mother, we ask your blessing. Rose has consented, and we are to be
married at once."
"Rose consented to marry you?"
"Yes, mother."
"Don't call me mother," uttered the widow, pushing him from her suddenly,
"You are _not_ my son, you are an imposter!"
An imposter!
How the words cut into the heart of poor Rose. She recoiled, but he
grasped her hand and started to lead her away.
"Come, this is no place for us," he hissed hotly, forgetting his part in
his rage and alarm.
"Aye! he is an imposter as I am here to prove!"
A clear, ringing voice uttered the words, as a young man strode from a
tree near, tossed his hat to the green-sward, and confronted the startled
trio.
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