Litchfield enquirer., 1874-03-05

My father,'' she said simply, ''Mop- sieur Furet is an old man, and do not want to marry"
 s'Go away, Jeanneton. The miller spoke angrily, and in his heart he mutter- ed, cit is that chattering fool who has done the mischief. !"
 Madam retreats in frightened silence, and then Jacques Roussel puts his arm round his daughters waist 1 My little one, "-there is wonderful tenderness in the rough mans voice, tenderness which no one but Eugenie knows of.-s'Monsieur Furet is hale, strong man, and he is kind and good, also. See how near his house is to our mil; he can do more for thee, my beloved, than thy father can."
 Eugenie has been looking earnestly at the miller, and she sees that he avoids her direct glance. She is simple and sweet, but she has inherited some of her fathers shrewdness besides she is Norman born, and she recalls the scared look with which he greeted her.
 ''Father is it only because thou would est see me we'll married? There is another reason-is it not SOP"
 Jacques Roussel is keen and skillful at ! S"A0cAAAs OlAO AC 10 NC1J 4AlCI1OI bO LID wife in the art of equivocation; a flush mounts to his forehead, and he looks | troubled.
 ''Tell me everything" Eugenie says coaxingly, and she kisses each of the broad cheeks.
 "Well, my little one, do not want to force thine inclination, but it seems to me that thou dost not care for any of our bachelors, even for Sylvestre or Victor" Eugenie shakes her head, little curve of disdain on her pretty ips:-''and Mon sleur Furet IS m every way excellent, and, -and, well, my child. thou hast guessed it, for Eugenie is smiling slyly into his eyes, "some of Furet's spare cash would help me buy some new Mecanique I saw to-day, and that would make my fortune" Would it make you happier?" Euge- nie laughs mischievously; she is too full | of youth and brightness to realize that she is testing about her life's destiny. But yes, Eugenie," Jacques stands l erect, holding his head rather higher than usual, ''the man at the bottom of the ladder, and the man at the top, are equal ly content; but the man who has got half ways looks down and sees what he has done, and looks up and sees what is yet to do. There is no happiness until he reaches the top, and am halfway up my ladder, my little girl"
 But still Jacques feels in false posi- ton, and makes no attempt to caress his | daughter.
 Engenie stands thinking.
 My father, cannot say at once that I will marry Monsieur Furet I cannot even say," she goes on quickly, for an eager hope shoots into her fathers eyes, ''that l will ever marry him; but will try | and think of it, and thou knowest, my father, would do much to please thee," The sweet blue eyes are so tender as she speaks that Jacques turns away sud- denly, and draws the sleeve of his blouse across his eyes.
 It is Sunday Madame Roussel and Eugenie have been already once down and up the steep, green hill when they went to Mass this morning, and now they are going to Vespers, and after that to pay visit to Monsieur Furet's garden.
 Eugenie has often looked with longing eyes over the low stone wall at the lovely flowers, and she consented readily to ac- cept the invitation which her father brought back from Monsieur Furet. Jacques Roussel stands and watches mother and daughter as they walk side by side down the slope.
 ''What bundle the old woman grows! Will my trim, sprightly little girl ever grow to that? We'll, the wheel goes round with us as with the machines. An, the Furet would have been so wide awake. He is not so much in love as our Jeanneton think he is."
 Jacques ends with a growl Yesterday, when he saw Monsieur Furet, he suggest ed as delicately as possible that his daugh- ter was not anxious to marry, but that he, Jacques Roussel was exceedingly reioiced at the prospect of such a son-in-law. Mon sieur Furet bowed his thanks in reply, and then Jacques Roussel changed the subject of conversation, and ended by in- troducing, as hej thought, in altogether casual way, the new machinery he had seen at Bolbec, and the immense advant- ages that would accrue to him as miller if he coule afford to purchase the like.
 ''The old fox!" Jacques stuffed his hands in his pocket and stamped. It was too exasperating to see him rub his smooth old hands together, and say, 'I wish you all success, Monsieur. Then I am to understand that. although you can not promise me your daughter, you per init me to try to win her favor." The miller shrugged his shoulders i'm patiently, and paced down the slope as far as the shed. It was deserted to-day, and he seats himself astride the rough wooden bench on which they chopped fagots.
 "Bahi Bah! Bah! after all, the old fel- low has tact and sense, and can manage anything but 8 fool-no one can manage fool. It shows he knows something about 4I,ok1 |, oI~ Eugenie to his house and garden when he introduced himself to her. Furet will make doting, easy-going husband, no fear. The only thing I should like out of the arrangement Is that square-faced, black-eyed naenagere. believe she was listening at the door yesterday He came out of the shed, and looked down the hill. The women were already out of sight.
 Jacques Roussel would have been still more troubled if he had seen the naSna- gere's dark eyes peering out of little slit of window when the congregation struggled out of church.
 Monsieur Furet had gone to Vespers, and he stood in the church porch waiting for his visitors. He only made Eugunie profound bow, but he tucked Madame Roussels hand under his arm, and led her in triumph to his house.
 The entrance is plain and dull. A mar row path leads from the little gate be: tween two closely-clipped hedges. As Marguerite does not appear, Monsieur takes key out of his pocket, and opens the door.
 The long, dark, Jagged passage en- trance looks cold and cheerless; as Flu genie steps down into it she shivers. It feels damp, and, as Monsieur Furet closes the door behind her, the house seems like prison.
 Monsieur is surprised at the absence of his housekeeper, but he keeps smiling countenance, and throws open the door of his study. Eugenie has heard of the avocat's treasures, and she follows her mother into the quaint little room. with a pretty, flushed eagerness. It is quite little museum. There is tapestry on the walls, and each of the chairs is an antique curiosity.