The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1875-07-31

ooihSho" iioii ehO iliO III eiiO
salon; but l liked the rough Yankee sail
ors as l liked the peasant people at home.
When the sun was bright, and the sea
smooth, | used to walk on deck and talk to
the captain or the mate. Talked with a
hateur that must have amused them much,
those honest sailors; but if they laughed
often at the shabby, penniless grand dame
who held her head SO loftily, knew it not.
l always had the treatment of a princess
on the quarter deck of the Cdrmassie.
l remember well the only time any one
ever offered me insult; it was young man
who was magntfque-what my Sarah would
call tlashy, you girls are so slang!-and he
followed me about the deck one rainy day,
trying to talk to the small unprotected pas
senger in her worn shawl l tried to get
away from him, tried to be proud-but
oh, how l was frightened. He caught my
hand once, and then I screamed. In a
moment after the parvenu was lying upon
the damp deck at my feet; knocked down
like flash of lightning by the red-haired
mattel
Ell bien! Miss Fannie, you get tired of
my story; you want your supper-the old
French woman will keep you not much
longer. When landed in New Y ork there
was no cousin Phillippi, no aunt to meet
me. looked for them long; but they never
came. Then the good captain put me into
carriage and told the driver to take me
to hotel-hotel something. l have forgot
ten the name. He said he would follow me
soon, and see that got to my friends. N.
le Cdpitaine was DID, and he had the good
heart!
The hotel was big and noisy; it scared
me to go up the broad stair case, and see
rors everywhere. l sat on a red satin sofa
and wanted my dinner, and longed for my
aunt and wished myself back on the cha
teau terrace with NJ. Octave-or with my
great, rough protector, the red haired mate,
on board of the Carmasse. l was almost
crying, l was SO frightened and forlorn;
and the ladies coming in and out of the
salon, stared at me so.
One of the ladies was tall and queenly
and grand; her hair was all braided and
curled, and her silk dress rustled as she
walked. A waiter came up to her in the
salon and handed her a card.
Then pretty, rosy color crept over her
face, and she said something to an old lady
standing near; and the old lady answered:
He will not care to came in here, Nio-
-
let, his mother only died last week. See
him in the small parlor, my dear.
l was on my sofa just at the entrance to
the small parlor; the lovely lady brushed
right by me- as she hurried to meet her
visitor, who entered by another door. L
could see their forms reflected in one of the
mirrors; he was dressed in deep black, aid
was tall and slim and blonde; she gave him
both of her pretty, white hands when she
met him, and murmured, not so softly that
could not hear it, but very low, wei
come, Philippe
lie sat beside her on the sofa, could see
it all. He had eyes like my fathers, so
deep and blue. The lady had dropped her
card on the floor, and 1 picked it up
Why, ma petite, cannot tell. did it with
out thinking-I had been somehow curious
since she had said, ST doucenent Philippe
On the card it was written: MIR Philip
de Londe.'
1t was indeed my cousin Philippe! But
/ did not get up and 60 to him. The lovely
lady was sitting close beside him, and he
was saying to her-I know the English
well, na mere had taught me:
Violet, when my poor little cousin comes
you will be kind to her, will you not? And
the soft voice murmured:
Is she not here, Phillippe?'
mo; look for her daily, since my mother
died What a sweet, plying look she gave
him.-'I am the only relative the child has.
My mothers last words were: take her to
your Violet, mon .fls.'
The lovely lady began to clasp and I'M
clasp her bracelet nervously. Then she
looked up at him.
when we are married, she said-and l
sat straight up to listen-'th little thing
may not care to share our home. You know
there was some talk she hesitated, they
were both talking very low, but l could
hear.
'Of marriage between Marie and my
self-Yes; Violet. But 1 trust her STEP
mother never told the child about it. l
never could have had it; 1 am all Amer-
can, and Frenchwoman would not make
me happyn said my cousin Philippe.
Oh, ma belle mere! Lying in your quiet
grave! So sure, as you drew your last
breath, of your little Marie's future! l
understood it ALL, the little thing
and poor child sitting on the red satin
sofa. Ma mere, simple and ignorant of the
ways of this new country, and my good
aunt willing to take daughter-in-law
without dot for her dead brothers sake.
And these two, young and loving and in
dependent, ruthlessly overthrowing all the
innocent plans of their elders! The little
French girl brought up on les conuenences
in a secluded chateau, had yet sense enough
to comprehend that.
My naughty, childish heart was stung;
l got up and went blindy out of the salon
| anu luJO Glc "luc COIIluOE. WOulu gO
back to N. lie Capitaine;; would work for
my bread; l would die rather than see
again the face of my cousin Philippe!
Some one was coming towards me from
the other end where was the great stair
case; it was some one who was tall, and
his hair was red. l held out my hand to
him; l was in a sort of a daze:-
take me; oh, take me back to the Car
masse!' | cried.
'Mademoiseller- voice was sur
prised, but gentle was just coming to
see if you were comfortable; the Captain
will be here in an hour. We will wait for
him in the parlor.'
Mono! lie is in the salon!' 1 will not
go into the salon!' l stamped my foot
was so angry. He drew my hand under
his arm, and put me into a carriage. l
thanked him in my heart for not saying a