Litchfield enquirer., 1878-10-31


 rum punch out over the crisp new crape that trimmed Madame De Beauvais's tight black sleeve. l.. sF.:. .3#- ..rr.
 Pardon, mon pere," arose the grave and girlish tones, ''but cannot the faults of my grandfather-which must have been few, or 1 had not loved him so--lie with him in the grave where he is cold? And could not mon- sieur Pabbe have remembered even one of his many virtues insteadp' -f''.et
 'Melanle !" began Madame De Beauvais, in sharp, reproachful amazement-'' Mcdaniel do you"
 The abbe interrupted. Wincing inwardly, he had swallowed his tea and his humiliation together, and though he could not quite con- trol the dark flush that mounted over cheek and brow, his ready Frahkish wit rose equal to the occasion-the unheard of occasion-of be- ing the rebuked instead of the rebuker.
 ''Mademoiselle is right" he said, with calm and gracious smile; ''her words are just should have remembered that even in the in timacy of the family circle-and monsieur le baron always seems of the family to me--si- lence is better than speech. accept the re- hinder in all humbleness"- abbe's humili- ty certainly bore no outward sign-'.and shall make myself more reproaches than even her loyal young heart is heaping upon me. Forgive, dear madame, the noble impulses of intoxicating youth, and do not chide the child l am sure no disrespect was meant. beg nay, demand-that she be instantly and en- tirely forgiyen;" and the abbe smiled with gen. tie magnanimity, as he waved his white and shapely hand. ''And now, dear madame" he resumed, rising leisurely, as he brushed stray crumb from his spotless long black robe, ''hav ing tedious walk before me, will, with your permission, wish you and monsieur le hnp of1Io q, ka make my adieuX to monsieur votre mari, and let me give myself the pleasure of looking in again tomorrow to make my peace with Mad emoiselle Melanie, who, 1 see, has fired her shot and fled;" and, laughing carelessly, the Abbe Tuvache took his wide -brimmed hat and made graceful exit. ....., .,-
 His "dear madame" smiled charmingly at her departing guest, but when the abbe's re- treating footsteps were heard no more, she called again, ''Melanie p in tones which hard ly argued well for that ''entire" forgiveness he had smilingly demanded.
 Baron de Font-Reale, with the freedom of long acquaintance, laid detaining hand upon her arm.
 ''Let the child be, Clarisse," he pleaded :; ''she has far finer feelings than we who en- couragedthe priest forget himself. tell you, mon annie, she made me ashamed ;" and in his
 
 the remainder of his tea in such hot haste that a violent fit of coughing and strangulation en- sued. ''Ma foi! but she was superb-that en- fant la !" he gaspingly went on, his face still purple. Superb! And, madame, your daugh- ter is growing up beauty that will rival even her lovely mother. Pity she is not a little older. Let me see," he added, refectivly," ''when will Melanie be sixteen 2''
 ''Her seventeenth birthday comes in March, my friend, just six months from now but she will not have enough" laughed Madame De Beauvais, frankly showing that her quick wo- mans wit had at at once divlned what thoughts were running in the good old baron's head
 ''Dear me! does it, now ?" he exclaimed, in pensive astonishment, ignoring the latter half seems only yesterday that we tasted the bon bons at her christening. We'll, Clarisse, your little spring bud is blossoming out into a charming human flower. Proud and shy, but, ma foi brave enough to rebuke even the all conquering Abbe Tuvache. It was pretty little scene parbleu! The child's words were quiet, but they must have stung; and Dieu l! how her cheek blazed and her soft eyes fash ed! You can give her, 1 suppose" pursued the baron, barely escapingth that traditional step from the sublime to the ridiculous, three hundred thousand francs, or thereabouts 1? Yes, 1 thought so. Well it may be, mon annie, the old uncle is, after all, little better off than the world imagines him, and heart like Melanie's is worth the Lafitte's million. Let me tell you, madame, it is not picked up every day."
 "Wbich-the money or the heart, cher bar on ?" laughed Madame De Beauvais, making short quick passes with her handkerchief over the still damp spots upon her sleeve.
 "Bah!" laughed the baron in turn; syou understand me; think of it, Clarisse;" and Monsieur De Font Reale stepped through the window, near which they had been sitting in to the dewy, fragrant garden beyond, leaving Madame De Beauvais to turn over, with the combinations of long and intricate ''pa- tience," which she undertook with the two whist packs lying before her, the hint he had imparted.
 As for Melanie, that venturesome maiden heard neither the abbe's graceful intercession nor heard her mothers reprOachful call. With a lip now trembling at her own temerity, now curling with scorn at the thought of the priest who; for the pleasure of making little scene and being the center of little astonishment, could recklessly betray secret of the confess tional, even though the penitent he had shriv- ed lay cold and dead, and with eyes misty from unshed tears of indignation, the young girl had hastily lifted a heavy portiere, and passed into wide and silent room beyond.
 In the olden days, when the De Beauvais counted a shaven priest among his many re- tainers, this chamber had been chapel, around whose frescoed ceiling curled the smoke of fragrant incense, and before whose altar knelt many scion of that noble house. But the chateau had undergone many changes since, and now the whilom chapel had become kind of quaint artistic music room, where, in- stead of droning priest, Melanie de Beauvais sent her pure young voice echoing through the panelled walls The painted angels that once looked down upon the kneeling crowd were faded; the altar, like those whose. prayers tall stained window and an ancient organ re- mained to tell of glories past and gone.
 Yet vague and soothing hush seemed still to cling around the sombre walls, and wan dering moonbeam which fell mellowed by the many mingling tints, through the high-arched 'vitrau," seemed but to fill in and make com plete the silent, solemn harmony.
 The dim rich light trembled down over the time stained keys of the old organ, but hardly travelled far enough into the shadows Of the to search out the recumbent figure of a youth who had, after hard days shooting and Paul de Font-Reale seldom failed to ucsS ulo SdulC- CAJOyluS. O POoC-PionOhoA nap within the comfortable depths of huge Louis XIII, armchair.
 Peacefully unconscious of the matrimonial schemes plotting in his his behalf, dreaming, it must be confessed, neither of Melanie de Beauvais's sweet and serious eyes nor of Julie Lafitte's shining golden francs, had Monsieur Paul slumbered on, awakening only just in time to overhear the particular remark which had SO aroused the stshy, proud" Melanie out of her wonted calm reserve
 Paul, refreshed and rested, had meant to slip quietly out and enjoy his goodnight look at the realms of Neptune-for Norman can scarcely get through the four-and- twenty hours without good morn and good eve to his beloved sea-unsuspected. But Melanie's sudden entrance frustrated theinnocent design, and as he was unwilling to startle her sensi- tiveness by emerging ghost-like from his shadowy corner, he remained a prisoner per- force.
 Swiftly the young girl passed athwart the mOonbeam beyond him; to and fro she walked in the rich gloom of the old-time chapel, speak ing sobbingly to herself out of the fHllness of a passiOnately rebellious heart.
 ''How they gossip and laugh, and plot, and buy and sell!" she murmured, bitterly, dash ing away the tears that would not he kent