The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1871-06-02

i knocked at the door. A French
| child, with auburn hair and face clean
though homely, presented herself.
Il wish to see the person who flutes"
"Que voulez vous, madame? Je ne
parle pas Anglais."
repeated my wishes in French, and
the little girl went into an inner room
after her sister, while another child a
youngster of three, came and stared at
me with his great blue eyes.
glanced around the room. There
was a rag carpet on the floor, and a half
dozen cane-bottom chairs ranged around.
| An old.fashioned sideboard held q few
| pieces of old china, some silver spoons
and silver cup and, in addition to
these, there were some books and de-
cent picture or two, little relics that
seemed to tell the saddest of all his.
tories, that of family who had seen
better days. There was inexpressible
neatness and cleanliness about every
thing, and pleasant perfume from the
| flowers in the window filled the room.
Presently the pretty brunette APP
peared with bowl of broth in her
hand. She bowed again and again, and
smiled, her manner having that grace
full, suave politeness which is a charm
peculiar to the French of all classes.
Pardon, madame, | have been giving
my sick mother her broth. So sorry to
keep madame waiting moment"
Z" | don't mind waiting little while.
want some huting done, and also some
plain sewing. Can you come tomorrow
for the sewing?"
Yes, madame"
q prefer that you should do it at my
house.
"As madame pleases. My mother is
better this week, and | can leave her
through the day to Blanche"
Very well, then. Come to-mor-
row."
The young girl came the next day.
Her day heightened into week, and
then into two. Her grace and naivete,
her perfect propriety of department,
and manner far above her station, in.
terested me more and more, and made
me pity her also, for it is misfortune to
be forced into any sphere of life, high
or low, where we do not rightfully be-
long.
sometimes noticed the same intense
observed. Her manner at such times
was distract, and her fingers trembled
nervously over her sewing. One day
she came in looking pale as marble, and
oh with such melancholy look in the
tender brown eyes.
As she fitted a robe over my shout
ders | felt the touch of her fingers
like ice upon me. l turned, impul-
sively, and took the cold hand in my
own.
Annette, you are in trouble know
you are. Will you tell me what it all
means? will help you, if can. Don't
be afraid to trust me. promise that
will be your friend"
"Oh, madame ~ and with that she
sank on sofa, and broke into sobs.
"What is it, Annette? Come, there
Is no sorrow without remedy, though
the one that suffers cannot always per
! ceive it"
I'VE are so poor, madame, so poor =
she sobbed out, despairingly "and my
mother is an invalid, and she and the
children must live 10y my work. My
father has been dead three years, and it
| has been my care to support them since
! them
"Good heaven, Annette and have
you none to assist you p
" None, madame but, somehow, we
have got along. We French can live On
so little. A cup of coffee, little soup
an onion or two, bit of fruit. The
saints be praised, we have never yet
suffered from cold or hunger, except
one Sunday-shall l ever forget t?'
Ny mother had been too sick all the
! her, and work was scarce anyway. 1t
was cold, dark, dreary Sunday, and
The rain kept pattering down, but did
not fall faster than our tears. But after
a while Gabriel came, like good angel.
and it was all right again. My mother
don't like Gabriel, but she was glad to
see him that time, for he brought us fire
and food and warmth"
I" And Gabriel is the young man
who sings La Refine d'Amour' with
you ~
She blushed, but answered, with sim
pie fran<ness. 4" He is the man | love.
madame" And saying this, she took
from the pocket of her neat little apron
" piiOtOSihFll, iliNt ~ W Illt.
looked at it. 1t was the face of
man Of the people, with no very fine
lines or great expression Of intellect in
it, but round and good-humored, and
with certain energy in it, too. Judging
from that glance, he was the very sort
OF man to succeed in a country like
this.
This is your lover, Annette ?"
Yes, madame; and that is my worst
trouble Of all" she replied, breaking
into fresh tears.
Why so? Have you quarreled ?"
Yes-yes-we-we have"
1t is only this? Why, lovers quarrel
every day and are reunited. He will
come back. You can recall him."
ooh! no, madame, | cannot. Ny
mother
Your mother-what p
"Shc will not let me marry Gabriel.
She says he is good-for-nothing. Be
sides, there is another, who is mechan-
ic, who has plenty of work, and who