Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1874-06-19

/ what jewelled galleries could be more beau
tiiul than these green and garanded loggias
: through which the burning evening garden
2 was shining in clear, invigorating life? As
!. he came from under the vines, he saw a
b common monthly rose-tree, from every
t thorn of which rainbow seemed to break
n and flash as Denise swept by with her heavy
: cloth skirt. There was one rose of which
= the colors seemed to glow beyond light,
, deeper and dearer and more splendid than
, any words. The flower burnt on, and Hugh
e stopped in admiration; Denise, however,
| pointed to the stable clock.
; Make haste she said, ''dinner will he
| ready and the young man understood
, that he was to lose no time. Denise hur-
: rei on quickly to her kitchen, past rose
} perfume, and sweet verbena, and geranium
= leaves. Mademoiselle, however. did not
: come down to dinner. and Blanche again
did the honors.
) Mademoiselle de Latouche was reported
still indisposed next day. Only Mathlde
and Blanche Were there when Hugh, who
had risen early, walked into the breakfast
room from the garden. lie had been down
to the village, bathed. and reconnoitred the
place.
Early rs it was, all the batherS We're al
ready out on the sands: and strange and
motley crowd assembled. Roman figures
standing draped, enjoying the horizon, read
ing the paper, and contemplating the sea,
before casting their long white togas aside
and venturing into the water. Ladies in
sandalled feet, closely CARRIED in woollen
stulis. banded and filleted like any TulIias
and Cornelias ont of a gallery Of statues
little noisy hoys and girl> playing on the
shore or eapering down from the bathing
boxes our own children pilins their castle.
1t is all present as | write. the heave of the
crisp horizon. the flash of brine, the faint
sparkle Of distant promontories. People
talk Of being misunderstood surely there
are moments when every grain of sand.
every CLEAN of light, seems 10 respond 10
the uttermost need of ones being. and to
complete and to satisfy.
The cheeriulneSs and cattcr Of it all first
struck oar friend Hugh and, for the first
| time, he understood that BESIDES ones life
and ones habits there i such 4 thing As the
ate of mind in which people and their
neighbors habtually live 1t Is quite indie
! pendent Of circumstances, and represents
the measure from which they start. Wheth-
cr one state of mind Is more desirable than
another. was not the question he asked him
self lie had been used to look with some
thing Ike scorn upon anything that was
good-humored and temporary; stern real /
ization of the terror- Of life. and heavy |
plod along it, pitfalls. had always seemed to
him the most reasonable aspect to eontem- |
plate. 1t had been his mothers and his |
fathers it wa his brothers.
Under all these cheerful influence, he
came hack to the chateau whi~tling. with f.
his hands in his pockets, and prepared to
eat. drink coffee. and transact business he
passed old Pierre with clean straw in his
slbots, cracking cheerful morning whip.
The breakfast was set ont on the oil-skin
tabie-coyer, dish Of piled-up frait in the
centre, bowls of coffee and loaf three feet
long, from which Mathildc was cutting lib
cral hnnches. Blanche was hrcakia~ting in
the sunshine she was sitting Just where
the light fell npon the oak parquet she
was still dressed in white. dcmurely slipping
her bowl of milk She looked little pale,
even younger than the night before.
Here Is the English gentleman l'' said
Mathilde, looking up, and she opened the
window to let their visitor in. y She did
so. all the morning aureolc. birds soncS
light. fresh. and renoyating. rushed in
Mathllde ,hivered. but enjoyed and, being
cold, went off to get shawl for Blanche.
while the Young lady answered Hugh in
quirie>.
"llere Is Your aant'> little far tippct for
vou. my child" said the kind creature.
coming back with some swan '~-lown.
Thank YOU. NIathillc. said Blanche
Sc Mr.. Gourlay Will not believe that am no
I
more to eat quickly. for this Is a fa-;-lay
cream
Nlademoi~elc Mathildc hurried of en-
chanted. FaSt-day or iea~t-day. she never
ate anything herself, but her pleasure wa~
to provide for Others and this little Blanche
was very near her heart Who could help
loving her? a soft little wiilul creature with
sudden spirits flaming up. silent deep sup S
pressions, all following one another 81 rap
idly that it was hard to >ay which of all '
these sunshinc~ and tempcstS wa~ Blanche t
herself.
Then the little gray woman took some t
crumbs from the table and scattered them q
over the garden path that crossed the win ;
dow. \ sparrow Immediately appeared {
ready TO grapTle with an enormous block of !
bread. e
Are you fond OF birds q" said Blanche u
Il am watching Hugh a- he went ON
with his breakfast. There are thruShes in 7
the garden Of the convent where ! was I
brought up. and n nightingale sings in June. a
watch him under the tree Ii i 81 pref
ry one night We tried to steal out to listen
10 it, but the good mother punished us all
next day.
GLOW glad you must he to be at home" O.
said Hugh, who had finished his coffee.
30 Now you will be able to listen To nightin- il
yale~ a~ long a. you like. L
Blanche did not answer: she crimsoncd a
up and then became very pale, even her d
pretty red lips seemed to turn white for .
Don't You know" she began,
hen laltered. She was always gentle. and
generally deliberate in her movements. but =
IN this occasion some sudden impulse made r
ier start from her chair. spring swiftly to /,
he window and ont into the garden the =
birds in front of tie window flew away :,
frightened. "
Mathilde started Blanche had vanished. i
Iugh Gourlay was Il little puzzled he II
ooked at his companion. wondering what Il
ie had said amiss The dligcnt little wo- II
nan was still clearing away the breakfast, :,
md brushing the crumbs off the oi-skin :,
over of the table. She seemed to avoid his :,
glance When Hugh got up and walked I,
nto the garden. he saw Blanche, in her f.
wan S-down tippet. sitting in the sunshine l.,
is quietly as if nothing had happened. r
Benches alternated with orangc-trces y
long the terrace. and Blanche had chosen n
he sunniest. She sat quite still with her r.
lands linked into her sleeves, in the way =,
he had learnt from the nuns. She was =,
ooking ntently at the swaying branch of a "
rec, from which some lilac dropping wis "
eras were hanging. Her shadow never :,
TIRED upon the gravel walk. Beyond the Il
errace, in the great meadow, the cows 4,
we're standing in their sombrc coats be- Il
-ond the cows, the old iron gates were f.
,losed against the world 'iaunting by the of
highway 1t all looked secure and peace n
al enough. As Hugh eame up, the young
jhatelaine moved ever 50 little and made a
'laee for him on the bench beside her. hi
''Tcll me" she said, suddenly, "why did N
-ou come here - os
Il came on business, - said Hugh. m
What busness?' said Blanche, still -,
ooking at the wiSteria branch, where a lit hi
lie sparrow was swinging and swaying to w
une in his own brain. ba
HdNc u ilIu Il particular sort Ol nldcll- te
ne, said Hugh, for which your father n,
laS left a model, ! understand, and | have of
o find a poodle for my father lie thinks W
hat is most important OF all, but | am very til
nxious to get the machine" he
"A machine \ poodle - said Blanche. dc
ooking at him with her wise, yet innocent to
yes "llaye You come all this way for a st,
'oodle? think can help you; there is a an
'oor woman in the village who has one to hi
spose of. His name is Bismark He is a hi
cry biz dog will have him brought here w
or you. cannot think how any one can ar
Ike dogs. We cannot endure dogs in this Gu
nnse There are nnne nt the rnnrcnt. thnt