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About The Stanford World (Stanford, Mont.) 1909-1920 | View This Issue
The Stanford World (Stanford, Mont.), 06 May 1920, located at <http://montananewspapers.org/lccn/sn85053199/1920-05-06/ed-1/seq-7/>, image provided by MONTANA NEWSPAPERS, Montana Historical Society, Helena, Montana.
THE STANFORD WORLD \tk*wi.tk $; s 44- 0,4 ) .4 mktk ww,t,g,-;:gb$,.koRtioAkt&I„Aw 3 4; 4$,4 . 4 0.kag&i 44 WOODEN SPOIL By VICTOR ROUSSEAU (Copyright, 1910, by George H. Doran Co.) Illustrations by Irwin Myers *WAKC4gb000. WOnbt *47 \WE MUST GET THERE IN TIME TO SAVE Synopsis.—Hilary Askew, a young American, inherits from an uncle a hundred square miles of forest in Quebec. Upon taking possession he dis- covers all sorts of queer things. Lamartine, his uncle's lawyer, tells him the property is comparatively worthless and tries to induce him to sell. Late Connell, the mill foreman, tells him his uncle has been systematically robbed. Morrie, his manager, is associated with the Ste. Marie company, a rival con- cern owned by Brousseau, the \boss\ of the region. Madeleine, tile beau- tiful daughter of Seigneur Rosily, original owner of Askew's land, Is pursued by Brousseau, who has her father in his power. The hero decides to stay and manage his property. He discharges Morris and makes Connell manager. He whips \Black\ Pierre, foreman of a gang of Brousseau's men cutting on his land. He defies Brousseau. Leblanc, his boss jobber, deserts to the enemy. From Father Lucien Askew learns the story of Marie Dupont, daughter of the captain of a lumber schooner. The girl's mother, now dead, had been betrayed, and she herself is looked on askance and has few friends. Marie knows the name of her mother's betrayer, but has never reveafied it to her father. Askew finds Madeleine Itosny hostile to him. Askew and Connell visit Simeon Duval's dance hall in Ste. Marie. Revenue officers raid it and Askew I. blamed for the raid. He and Connell rescue Marie Dupont. Askew saves Madeleine Rosny vhen her horse runs away. She gives the warning, \Look to your boom!\ and then the mill boom breaks and Askew's logs are carried away to the St. Lawrence. Who sawed the booth? Baptiste, the jealous lover of Marie, deserts Askew. Brousseau brings about a strike of Askew's mill hands. Askew and Connell part in anger over the strike. Askew starts to stop Louis Duval from opening a saloon In fit. Boniface. Madeleine asks him not to go. Askew breaks up the liquor selling and runs into a trap, where he fights four of his enemies. • CHAPTER IX.—Continued. • —7— Pierre reeled, and once again Hilary leaped and caught him under the chin. tEut this time he was not quick enough to repeat his former maneuver. Le- blanc struck at him from behind. The upward thrust would have penetrated his heart had it struck where Leblanc' Intended; but, by a miracle of luck, it passed between Hilary's arm and his body, only just grazing a rib. The point of the blade caught in the lining of the coat and, before Leblanc could :withdraw his arm, Hilary pressed his own left arm against his body, catch- ing Leblanc's hand there and imprison' jug It. e This movement swung him round, loreing him to release Pierre, and the 'ynsuIng bovine rush which the outlaw •Made threw them both against the em- brasure of the second window, on the ;Opposite side of the door. Men were elling outside, and a furious hammer- ing was maintained, but none of the 4Ighters was conscious either of the ;shouts or of the bloWs. As Hilary and .Leblanc fell against the window -shelf the rotted wood broke inward. Thq qiecond lamp tottered and then crashed down beside them, going out as the first had done, and leaving the stable -In complete darkness. With a swift nigivenient Hikiry managed to draw Le- blanc's arm further through his. With the pressure of his combined biceps find triceps he could bold it there in- definitely, if he had onlY Leblanc to sOntend with. But he could not use trks right hand to force Leblanc's open and take the knife, which the jobber was making frantic efforts to use. He needed his right hand for Pierre; and Leblanc managed to twist the knife so that its edge was against Hilary's side, and with the sinews of his fingers he was scraping it backward and for- ward, ripping open the coat lining and Inflicting a succession of scratches and little punctures under the heart. Hilary backed suddenly, Jarring Le- blanc's spine against the edge of the window shelf. Leblanc groaned and made a frantic effort to twist himself free, hacking at Hilary's shins and shouting to Pierre to finish the job. Pierre's forward rush had flung him between the two. Hilary felt him groping in the darkness, trying to gauge the position in which he was leaning; Pierre was evidently puzzled by the position of the two, and by the termination of Leblanc's shoulder against Hilary's. Hilary sensed that Pierre had finally satisfied himself and had raised his right arm to strike. He flung away the revolver, which he still held, reached up and seized the hand as it was about to descend. Think holding the right wrist of each of his -assailants he plunged forward, bringing them to the floor. He let go suddenly and sprang to his feet. Pierre's knife grazed his sole; as Le- blanc tried to rise Hilary caught him beneath the chin with the other foot. Leblanc groaned and his head -went back on the floor. That left only Pierre in action. Hil- ary withdrew a step or two. He heard the outlaw breathing heavily as he orouched in the darkness. For the first time he began to be aware of the knocking at the door. It sounded now as if a crowbar were being applied. The yells of the lumbermen came te his ears; but the absurdity of his posi- tion did not dawn on him, nor the fact that, when he had settled with Pierre be would have to reckon with the mob Maeda. He meant to deal with Pierre as he had dealt with the others. But in the darkness he could guide himself only by Pierre's breathing, which mounded now on one side of him and now on the other. Further away Le- blanc was moaning. Out of the darkness Pierre leaped forward. The knife blow flashed past Hilary; who got Pierre by the arms. they began to wrestle as they had done that day in the woods. Here Pierre was Hilary's superior; his physical strength was greater, though he had no force in his blows; and, though Hilary had beaten him that day at the camp, it was by a strategem which could not be repeated success- fully. Gradually the strength of Pierre's arms beaten to tell. The two panted, straining together, but Pierre winning. The knife arm was surely slipping out of Hilary's clutch. It reached upward. But at the moment when it was evading him Hilary drop- ped Pierre's left hand and struck the outlaw between the eyes. As he did so he heard the breathing on the other side of him. Pierre staggered, and in a flash Hil- ary had both his hands upon Pierre's right wrist, kneading the veins and sinews till the fist opened. The knife clattered upon the floor. Hilary stooped and seized it. That was the precise instant when the knife that had been dropped by Louis Duval, wielded by Simeon and thrust upward, found its home be- neath Hilary's shoulder. Hilary, who was still bending for- ward, stumbled and pitched upon the floor and lay there. CHAPTER X. Unexpected Allies. Late Connell, at Monsieur Trem- blay's hotel, stretched out his legs upon a chair and puffed viciously at his pipe, while Monsieur Tremblay leaned against the wall and listened to his guest's semi -soliloquy. \Yep Tremblay, I'm through now,\ Late was saying. \I'm through for good, and I'm going to wait here till the boat comes tomorrow and then beat It for Shoeburyport. Lord, I'll be glad to see Clarice—my wife—and the kids again. \I've put up a good fight, Tremblay. I've dropped eight thousand dollars in this fool game, and Clarice and me will have to start buying our home again when I get back to Shoebury- port, and maybe I won't hear nothing. about It, neither. But when It's a case of throwing away a few thousand dol- lars' worth of lumber, just because you look upon a strike as a personal of- fense, and me losing my home, I've finished. I've come to the end. The end—finish—no more. You under- stand me, Tremblay. I'm going to leave him to his fate,\ continued Life, trying to draw a few more mouthfuls of tobacco smoke from his burned -out plug. \It's his fault.\ He shook his pipe mat angrily. \Oul said Tremblay; and the word conveyed any significance that its hearer might choose to put upon it. \Out he continued thoughtfully, though what - he - was - thinking about was incomprehensible. \It ain't my job,\ Late pursued. \I'm a family man, I got my wife and kids to think about, and f'm against pre- paredness. It ain't reasonable to hire a man for manager and then expect him to go round saloon -busting, is It, Tremblay?\ \Ciul answered Tremblay. \You're right,\ said Late. \Of course it ain't.\ He filled his pipe again, lit and puffed at it. \I don't know what in thunder's wrong with this tobacco tonight,\ he said, and emptied it. He crossed his right leg over his left, uncrossed them, and then crossed his left over his right. Then he got up. \I guess I'll take a stroll up the road and see if the stars are out,\ he said. Late's stroll was a rapid one. As soon as he had left the porch he alt most nan up the hill road toward the cliff. As he panted toward the summit he heana the ramble of wheels in the distance, and presently he saw the cure's rig coming toward him, He hailed. \Say Father Lucy, d'you mind giv- ing me a lift into St. Boniface?\ lie called. The pig stopped and Late perceived Madeleine Rosny seated at the cure's side. Her hands were clasped, her face agitated and deathly pale. Late's hand went up to his hat awkwardly. \I beg pardon, Father Lucy.\ he mut- tered. \Jump in, Mr. Late,\ said the cure. \I'm glad that we met. We need you. We are going to St. Boniface. Jump in and I shall tell you on the way.\ Late entered the buggy, and Father Lucien urged on the horse; then he turned and said: \Louis Duval has opened a saloon In Baptiste's old house, and Monsieur Askew has gone to stop him.\ 4t i% i%4 4% oo**wItTow.ketaie&kwtttietitit \I guessed so, Father Lucy,\ an- swered Late- \I was just on my way there, in case there was going to be trouble. I guess there isn't likely to be, though. Mr. Askew knows how to take care of himself.\ \Trouble?\ questioned the cure, sharply. \They are going to murder him.\ \I heard some yarn like that from Tremblay,\ said Late, \but I guessed that was all talk.\ \It was not talk. It is their plan,\ said Father .Lucien. \Mademoiselle Rosily heard of it from Monsieur Brousseau days ago—It was on the day when you went to Ste. Marie. He rode with her toward Ste. Marie and told her so. She did not believe him. This afternoon she learned of it again from little Baptiste, who asked her to warn Monsieur Askew. Everybody knew he would go alone to St. Boni - face to stop the sale of liquor. Made- moiselle Rosny rode up to the camp to warn Monsieur Askew, as Baptiste had begged ker. He would not listen to her. She came to me. It is a dev- ils' plot,\ he said sternly, \and if they hurt one hair of his head they shall go to prison for lt.\ \We must get there in time to save him. You will do all you can to save him, will you not, Mr. Connell?\ asked the girl, looking earnestly at Late. As their eyes met Late realized suddenly that her agttation had more than an impersonal cause behind it. The swift knowledge came home to him with a shock; it cleared up many things, among them the fogs of rancor that had- clouded his mind. \I'll do everything that's in mi pow- er, Mademoiselle,\ he said. \I'll stand by hint—I'll fight for him if there's any fighting—\ \There will be none,\ said Father Lucien. \But Mademoiselle Rosny understands now what Brousseau is. She knows his character and his evil mind. And she has learned, fortunate- ly, before it is too late.\ Not another word was spoken. The buggy descended the hill and rolled to- ward St. Boniface. As it crossed the rickety bridge they heard the sound of distant shouting in Duval's saloon. About the front of it was gathered the entire male population of St. lionitace, gesticulating and chattering. They fell back in dismay as the cure leaped from the buggy and assisted Madeleine Rosny down. Late fol- lowed. He tried to urge the girl to re- main in the rig, but she paid no atten- tion to him. She listened with anxious intentness as the cure addressed the crowd, her lips compressed, her bosom rising and falling quickly. All eyes were fixed on Father Lucien, but each, as the priest turned to him, tried to shrink back behind his neighbor. Th#y were pointing inside the sat loqn. The cure hurried through the doorway, Madeleine Rosny immediate- ly behind him, and Late following them. The saloon, though lit by an oil lamp, was empty, as seemed to be the dark stable beyond it, seen through the open doorway. Father Lucien snatched down the lamp and carried it hastily toward the stable door. He raised it and looked In, then turned and tried to bar Made- leine from entering. But she pushed past him, saw, cried, wrung her hands, and ran into the middle space between the rows of stalls. Late, following her, saw her seated upon the floor, and Hilary, covered with blood, lying r4 0 .!:•• /,./ ' , s.- .1.• -/' at ' 1 1 , '',- ' - -. -- .4 •% ,fr Hilary, Covered With Blood, Lying St etched Out and Motionless, His Hied In Her Lap. stretche'd out and motionless: his head in her lap. She bent over birn and Late never forgot the look of anguish In her eyes, or the tension of the white face. Still supporting Hilary's head, she began tearing long strips off her petti- coat, frantically, as if she hardly knew what she was doing. Hilary's clothing was so drenched with blood 'that it was difficult to determine where the wound lay. There were livid bruises about hi s mouth and cheeks, and on his forehead, as if his assailants, after stabbing him, had kicked him, Father Lucien half turned him over and, uttering an exclamation, pointed to the shoulder, from which fresh blood was slowly welling. Late saw that Hilary was alive; he breathed very faintly, but his fnce was the color of death, more bloodless than that of Madeleine. The cure began cutting away the coat, then the lining, which would not come with it; then the shirt. Ile looked up. \Bring some water,\ he said. Late hurried out, the few curious lumbermen scattering In panic and scurrying before tutu. AS' he stood among them, shouting, a window in a nearby house went up, anti a woman handed out a pail, three parts full. Late took it. As he re-entered the shanty the crowd slowly gathered be- hind him again. He hurried into the stable. The cure took a strip of .the girl's petticoat, dipped it in the pall and began to cleanse the wound, purs- ing his lips and shaking his head the while. Late could see that the wound, while not long, was terribly deep, and it was still bleeding. It was impossi- ble to do more than clean it superfi- cially, owing to the need for haste. Having done this, Father 1.ucien made a pad and placed it in position, while idttileleine, working with steady fingers which gave the lie to her face, began to wind the strips over it round the chest. All the while site worked her face was agitated, and yet composed, and only the tortured eyes betrayed what she was suffering; but when tlte wound was bound she broke down. \It is nty fault,\ she cried in French, sobbing despniringly. \I warned him and he would not hear me, and I rode away. I knew it long before and I would not believe it. I have killed him.\ The cure's hand fell on her shoul- der. Late noticed, too, and thought it significant afterward that, wild thought her words were, and untrue, he did not then deny them. Madeleine looked up and, meeting his eyes, grew calm. Late stepped for- ward, bent down and gently raised Hil- ary's head from her knee. Ile placed his hands beneath the shoulders, sup- porting them, while Father Lucien lift- ed the lower part of the body, and thus they carried the stricken man through the shanty toward the buggy. The cure made a motion to Late to enter. \You and Mademoiselle Rosny will drive to my house,\ he said. \As there is no room for me, I walk. I give you the key, because my housekeeper e is ne gone to bed and must not be fright - \No to the Chateau,\ said Madeleine Rosny. \Do you think he shall go any- where else, monsieur, when he is like this?\ Her voice rang proudly, the tone ad- mitted of no opposition. The cure was silent. Late drew Ililary into the bottom of the buggy and crouched there, sup- porting the head and the upper pmt of his body. But Madeleine, watchful. uttered a low cry. A little blood was leaking through the bandage. She hastened to the other side of the rig and began adjusting it, while the cure turned toward the crowd, which was looking on in panicky silence, broken only by low words and mutterings. \This Is a bad night's work that you have doWn - he cried. \You shall pay for It, every men here e .and the assas- sins too. I know them all.\ The man who stepped forward was the foreman of the mill, by name Mac- Pherson, a decent worktnan and a de- scendant of one of Wolfe's Highland- ers who had settled along the coast and perpetuated their names and something of their stanch character, If nothing else of their race survived. \We are not all guilty, Monsieur Tes- sier.\ he said. \I knew nothing of this until the deed was done, Or I should have used every effort to prevent it. These people asked me to speak for them. They say that they broke down the stable door and saved his life when he was about to be cut to pieces.\ \His lifer cried Father Lucien, scornfully. \His life hangs by a thread; and if he dies his murderers shall hang for it. And you are guilty equal- ly,\ he continued, addressing the crowd, which seemed to melt under his burning tones. \You left him lie there and bleed to death. And listen fur- ther. You think that Monsieur Askew brought the revenue officers to Ste. Marie. Do I not hate Ste. Marie more than he? Yet even I would not bring the officers here until I had used every means to clean up the evil there. It was Monsieur Morris who brought them, for he told me so.\ There was a sensation at the priest's words. An excited babble broke out. Madeleine, who had just completed the bandaging, halted with one foot upon the step of the bug' and turned to the lumbermen. \Yes you left him to di I\ she cried In scorn. \You were nfrn4, and you forgot that strangers who c ne upon our land, upon our seigniory, re under our protection.\ Her eyes b azed as she denounced then,. \You lve for- gotten your ancient loyalty, Jn these , days, Messieurs. You have ngl memory of your Seignleur and what you owe to him—still your Seigneur, iii though you no longer grind and hew for him! You have forgotten I\ '1'110re was another movement among the crowd. Her words seemed to stir them even more than the priest's lied done. \No no, mademoiselle!\ cried several voices. \No! We have not forgotten!\ MacPherson came forward egain. \I'hey thought,\ he said, \Mademoi- selle, that Monsieur Itrousseau's ene- mies were yours.\ Late saw the girl stagger as if she had received n blow. She put her hand upon the buggy wheel and leaned thus for it moment, staring into Mac- Pherson's face. Then, without a word, she stepped in, took up the reins nod began to urge the horse, very slowly, along the road. The cure came to the side of the vehicle. \I shall come to the Chateau, then, Mademoiselle Rosily,\ he snid. Madeleine diti not answer him. Pres- ently Late, crouching in the bottom of the buggy, 'beard her sobbing again, low, heartbroken sobs that she could not check for a long time. Sometimes she took her eyes from the road to look for a moment into Hilary's face, and once she stopped for a moment. \How is he?\ she asked. \Ile is living, Mademoiselle,\ said Late. And that was all he dared to say. There was no lantern, and Madeleine needed all her watchfulness to avoid the stones and ruts in the road. Luck- ily the moon was bright anti the horse steady. Once, as the buggy Ironing round a bend, Late, looking out, saw the cure trudging behind, shaking his heavy stick. Ile heard Madeleine still sobbing. Ills own heart was heavy / A / • '/ '. . . • /, . o k S. ../ e ir _ r _sassaatimer Madeleine Was Already Established at Hilary's Bedside, enough; he bloated himself for 1111- ary's misfortune. He should have stood by him. And he had meant to do so. But lie had not calculated that Hilary would walk so fast or go to St. Bonne° so soon. The trees fell away, disclosing the Rosny chateau. The buggy stopped be- fore the door in front of which the Seigneur and the old retainer were standing, with anxioua faces. Made- leine bent swiftly over Hilary and raised his limp hand; then she turned her eyes to Late's, mutely asking him that question which could not be spoken. \lie is no worse,\ said Late. The Seigneur and his mnn came to- ward them. \Macl'heraon , telephoned to the post office and they brought me the news,\ he said. \You did quite right, Madeleine. Gently, now, Mon- sieur,\ he added, addressing Connell, and together they raised Hilary from the buggy floor. \Remember the steps. Now, I will go backward—so.\ They were inside the Chateau, carry- ing thelt - burden Vetween the rows of portraits into a room which had been a drawing room In bygone days, fur- nished with spindle -legged furniture, gilt mirrors and ormolu cabinets. A bed in a corner showed that its use had been converted, probably because the upper part of the Chateau was no longer habitable. Madeleine Rosny came in with her arms full of bed linen, diffusing the scent of - vvintergreen. Late and her father got Hilary to bed. Ile was stir- ring now, beginning to toss his arms and mutter in delirium. The pulse was stronger, but the flush which had supplanted the pallor denoted fever. Presently the cure entered and went straight to the bedside. The three met looked at Hilary and at each other. hue seen men who were wounded worse recover,\ said Edmond Rosny. \He has bled much, but the heart is uninjured, and unless the lung is gravely hurt . . . well, we shall see to It that he gets well,\ he ended abruptly. There was nothing more Connell could do. He would have stayed, hut he felt that he must await the issue in patience. Madeleine was already established at Illiary's bedside, li.nfe went in softly. \I shall come early In the morning, Mademoiselle Rosny,\ he said, \I want to say— about what you said to Father Lucy tonight—I mean it was my fault. I guess I'm the only one to blame. I ought to have stood by , him, and I went away. You did more than me, mademoiselle, and it wasn't up to you. I mean, It wasn't your business to save hint.\ \No?\ whispered Madeleine, raising her eyes to his, And Late felt like a blundering fool. \You'll save him,\ he said. \We can't lose him. We want him—we all want him. I guess I didn't realize how white ho was till—till this hap- pened.\ He was half way tce his boarding- house before he stopped as a thought struck him. \1 guess hither Lucy does get re- sults in his own way,\ ho said. CHAPTER XI. — Dreams and Dangers. Thanks to II eiollStIttlI1011 inured by hard work and healthy living, 1111nrY improved rapidly under Madelt•ine's nursing. aided by her father's skillemi treatment of the wound. On the sec- ond day Illiary was conscious, on the fourth Realty announctsi that the crists was past; upon the ninth the patient Was shit tug up in bed and de- manding solid food.s Lafe was the happiest man In the world when, at last admitted to the bedside, lie asheil and received abso- lution for his desertion. \Now I've got some good news,\ he said, when Hilary persisted in asking about the work. \We've got that shipment off. and Dupont will !Hive both vessels back in ti tow days for the next. The mill's working over- time and the gang's back on the job.\ \You paid them two dollars?\ \Not a cent more.\ said Lafe tri- umphantly. \They asked to go back to work, anti you ought to see them working! I guess they feel that they haven't given you a square deal. and Mr. Rosily's been having a few words with them, I hear. Anyway, they know now it's Morris who tipped off OM revenue people, lit order to 111/11C0 trouble for you, and the result IN this part of the country has grown too hot for hint. So he's gone away. I hear he had mu quarrel with !trousseau over the share of their plunder, and they utmost came to iii us over it. Well. that's the first of the gang out. And MacPherson has turned riot a trump. working overt lute and makIng the hands work, and it beglam lo look to me as if we'll win out after all.\ Thlm watt good news. It wns now September, anti in little more than a month the snow should extend con- siderably their rutting area. So they discussed their plans, until Mndeleine. venting tn. drove Connell away. Hilary would not tusk him about his assailants, and Lute was glad to avoid the subject. It was Father Lucien who took it up inter. when Hilary was convalescent. He hummed and hewed n good deal, and finally the truth came out. It would be easy enough to get the p0' lice up from Quebec, but the quar- tette would hove to be laid by the heels before the advent of whiter made further action impossible for months. Of the four, Pierre had (11P- nppeared. LehInne wait maid to have gone into the woods for the winter to trap, having apparently nbandoned hits pretense of a sub -lease on the Ste. Marie limits. Simeon Duval was run - nine him•snioon wide open, and an -ear - Ina that, Hilary having assaulted him, he had struck with his knife in self- defense, while in a luilf-stunned con- dition. Little Louis, his brother, stared out of his wit, had been to see the cure with a view to making his peace. Hilary hnd no desire to punish Louis any further, though he meant to deal with Pierre and Leblanc when the opportunity arose. Ile meant to rid the contmunity of them and Simeon; but he had a stroog man's reluctance to call upon the law to avenge a physical assault. In the end the cure went away with the under- standing that Louis was forgiven, and with no decision taken as to further action. \But what strength! What power, monsieur!\ he said admiringly, clench- ing his imnd over the muscles of Hilary's arm. \Do you know, mon- sieur,\ he continued thoughtfully, \I have often thought that a priest In such a district as this needs the muss eularlty almost as much as the good- ness! Ah, Monsieur Askew, if I were your age, and,of your strength, what would I not do!\ To Hilary his convalescence was a foretaste of paradise. Edmond Rosny came in only for fornml visits now, twice or three times a day; but it WWI wonderful to see Madeleine, whom he knew that he loved with all his heart, about his bedside all day long, and then about his chair, waiting on him, anticipating his wishes, until he felt ashamed to be so helpless, her pride gone, her scorn gone, her entnity as well. When Illiary learned of the part that she had played in his rescue, and thanked her gratefully, she could not meet his eyes. Then came the first day on which he was permitted to leave his room. Leaning on Madeleine's arm, he had gone out to ft -el the wonder of the sunshine and the crisp autumn air. The garden had originally been laid out, more than a century before, in imitation gt• the formal gardens of France of the period, with terraces' and % statuary. Everything was in ruin; and yet Hilary had the sudden, inexplicable sense of having come home. \Mademoiselle Rosny,\ he said, \we are going to be good friends in future, aren't we? The good -will goes with your kindness, even if it does not go with the trees.\ It's hard to keep a good man down. (TO BE CONTINUED.) Going Too Far. ,Tom—When shall we get married? Helen—Oh, 'Toni, why do you take our engagement so seriously? •
