him," she said, her lips quivering and the tears
rushing to her eyes. The idea of her beloved being cursed.

"Yes, I hate him," said the farmer, "I cordially distaste that dirty
rat; he is the worm that eats my bones; but, you never shall marry
him; do you hear? never."

"I will never marry anyone else," she said, her face assuming a
desperate calmness.

"Yes you will."

"Father," she said, her face almost as white as the cloth which she
was spreading on the table, "it is useless to speak any more about
it, it pains me to have to speak thus to you, but I will never marry
Tom Soher."

She heard the grinding of her father's teeth.

"If I did so," she continued; "I feel that I should commit a great
sin; I never could love him, therefore his life with me would be
miserable; he would feel lonely, and, I am afraid, would soon
return to his former habits of intemperance. Then I should be
breaking my word, for I have promised----"

"You have!" howled the father.

She did not go on; her father's eyes were riveted on her with a
terrible look. She feared he was going mad. She could not proceed,
mesmerized as she seemed to be under that awful gaze.

At last she turned her attention to her work.

Not another word was spoken on the subject that day.

Neither of them ate much that evening. It was almost impossible for
Adele to swallow anything. What she attempted to eat, stuck in her
throat. Her father, who was seated near the fire in his accustomed
place, seemed also to have lost his appetite.

At last, he thrust his food away from him with a gesture of
impatience, and began moodily to contemplate the embers that were
glowing in the grate. When nine o'clock--his usual hour for
retiring--struck, Adele helped him into the parlour.

It was there on a sofa that he insisted on sleeping while his foot
hurt him as it now did.

While the conversation was going on between father and daughter,
Frank was crossing the fields near "Les Marches," and soon found
himself beneath Adele's window. It was open. He took out his pocket
book, and hastily writing a few lines on a leaf, tore off the piece
of paper, rolled it into a ball, and threw it straight through the
window.

Then he cautiously glided away.

When Adele retired for the night, she did not perceive the ball of
paper that lay on the floor of her room. Her brain was so occupied
with her thoughts that it failed to fulfil its functions towards
the eyes.

She fixed her o