New Orleans daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1851-1866, 1866-10-08

and leartily-for by nature she was no lover Of
silence, but could chatter and chirp like any bird
that she often altogether forgot that She was sit
ting for her picture, which was exactly what he
wanted her to do.
And 50 at last the little sketch was finished and
they looked at it, holding it between them, with
| proud, bright, happy eyes
"Ah, if my mother could see it!i she said with
a sign of simple delight
Well why shouldn't she see it," he asked.
Let us take it to her together, Christine"
Would monsieur wish it," she said, half
timidly.
- +" should like to see your mother, and she would
like to see this, am sure and then" he paused
and looked at the little picture tenderIy. q Well
you see, don't think could exactly give it to
her Christine he said, " because want so much
| to keep it myself; but will tell you what will
do she likes i'll will make copy of it for her.
CO., monsieur is too good" But the color
| flushed up into her face with pleasure.
I" | shall like to make copy and you know it
would be unfair not to give you one; so that's
settled. And now will you take me home with
you to see your mother?
They had before this, had more than one walk
together. She knew the old town well, and on
several evenings, after the cathedral doors were
closed, they had rambled side by side for little
while about the Streets searching out the old
| houses that he loved or had fingered, young and
hopeful as they were, to look in at bright shop
windows But he never yet had gone home with
her. She had talked about her mother to him
often, but with tuitye delcacy she had never even
II l
| the poor home where they lived.
| Yet she had no false shame, and when they set
ont on their walk together this evening she merely
said to him once, simply and quietly " 1t Is but
poor place monsieur and then without further
apology she took him to it.
| 1t was an upper room in small house in very
old street. The stairs that led up to it were so
dark that as they assembled she had to take him
by the hand to guide him up: but the room itself
| was bright enough when they entered it, for its
| two high windows looked to the sunset. a clean
and pure room too bare enough of furniture, but
with sweet fresh air entering it through the open
| panes, and scent OF flowers combining in form
pots Of mgnonette upon the sill. small, shrunk,
| sckly-l0okng woman was sitting in an old arm
chair close to the light, and Christine went softly
to her side and kissed her.
| " Nd mere, this is monsieur, who has come to
see you,0 she said, quickly.
| And then lie came forward and took the thin
hand into his. It was delicate, white, worn
| face " Not like Christines, he thought-untll
She spoke, and he suddenly caught upon her lips
what was like the dying shadow Of Christmas
smile.
Long afterwards, when many years had passed,
Frank Lston sometimes tried 10 recall and bring
to life again the hours that he subsequently passed
within this room. How were they spent? What
had he doue What had they talked Of? What
had been the charm that had made these three
| so unlike in all outward circumstances as they
were-draw to each other? He could never tell
could never breathe life again into the dead ashes
| OF those hours. Twenty years afterwards could
| he have gone and spent hours each day with two
| poor untaught women-wOmen vino could not
| read or write, who neither knew nor dreamt OF
| the height OF depth Of anything in this great
| world whose universe was almost bounded by the
| four square walls Of the mean habitatiOn where
| they dwet-cOuld he have passed hours each
day with such as these. ana found his heart grow
| knitted to them? HI could not. But he did at
once in the old dead days Of his early faith and
| hope, when he saw brother or q sister in every
| kind face he looked on, and when the pure high
| tlITouOh he
| light OF its own TRANSFERRING sunshine.
| Day after day and even week after week passed
o4wA and he remained still in Rouen. He had
| mS hit when he left home to visit some three or
| four of the Norman or Bretaigne towns but he
had let his heart get welded to this one old city by
the Seine, and he could not leave it till his holiday
was ended. 1t called him to stay with voices that
he could not resist it spread its silent beauty cut
before him, discovering to him day by day some
| new unexpected loneliness; it gave him its old
gray walls to study, the records of its grandeur
and decay;lt gave him its old heart to disnter and
| it gave him Christine. Perhaps she Kept him more
than all beside perhaps the one human interest
was deeper than all that could attach itself to
sculptured stones; but he, at least, if it was so
was scarcely conscious of it. He did not seek to
weigh the separate interests apart; he only knew
| that she was to him, that she remained to him
through his whole life, one inseparable portion of
Rouen, and of that summer S holiday.
1t was perfect holiday, eve although each
day till almost sunset he worked away bravelv at
| those sketches of his-those sketches which were
| haltright, because the feeling in him for every
| thing around him was so deep and so true, and
yet which in their execution were nearly always so
| immature and feeble except when here and there
| some mOmentary inspiration gave to the hand a
| sudden strength. 1t would have been no holiday
to him at all if he had been compelled to lay his
pencil down. Such work as he did here was his
| best refreshment, his dearest rest. With never
ending delight he drew all day; and every even
ing he passed with Christine.
| Sometimes they spent the whole Of those even
| ings up in the poor garnet in the narrow street,
| but more often she would carry her basket and
| her earnings home, and then they would wander
far out of town together, southwards across the
river, or out to the open country, north and west
or east away upon the hills. They would sit in
| woods and fields, playing sometimes like children
| gathering flowers and filling the hollows of their
hands with water from the hill stream. She could
sing prettily, and she would teach her merry
French songs to him, singing them again and again
till he learned both air and words. And then he
would talk to her. He was full of dreams and
hopes about his life, aud of love for hundred
things, living and dead that she had never heard
OF, and OF enthusiasm and reverence and faith; and
of all these he talked to her. He would spend
hours so, pouring out his boyish heart how half OF
all he said to her must, in her ignorance be like
dead language to her-he forgot that she listened
and sympathlzed with him, and that was all he
asked.
They spent six weeks so. At the end of that
time they parted. The last hours that they spent
with one another We're on bright, soft Sunday
the river and then up on the rising ground to the
summit of Mount St. Catherine, and there sat
down on the hilltop, with the fair city lying at
their feet
30 Christine, shall never see it all again, per-
hapsH' he said, whenhe had sat gazing at it for a
long time.
They had come here together and had spent
other evenings SO before now; the hill, the town
the river, the dark cathedral towers against the
summer sky, had become familiar to the boys
eyes that were to see them now no more.
Perhaps you will come here again next Sun
day, when shall be hundreds of miles away
Christine, he said. Il wonder if all this will seem
like a dream then?"
ut will not seem like dream to me-" she an
swered softly. you will have other things to do
you will be at home then, with the people that you
love about you but shall have nothing to do
monsieur but to sit still and think of all this
time.n
She always called him "monsieur," even still
l He asked her long ago to call him by his name
but she had never done it.
Il have never been so happy in all my fe,n hi
said presently; he hadthrown himself down on the
grass, and laid his head upon her knees: he wa!
looking at the old town, not at her. "If [ lvet
for hundred years never should forget thes,
4 weeks. fever | have a holiday again, shall
t come back Christine?"
K 81 should be glad if you came back . she said.
5 She was bending down little, not touching him
as he lay, bnt only looking at him with the lashes