The weekly clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1863-1882, 1879-11-12

I Alice, this quiet cool, gray Jay, run
of soft mist and moisture, had a pensive
charm of its own, like a picture in
neutral tints or an air in minor KEY.
Etienne was first at the trysting-
place, that quaint green avenue where
Georgette and he sat to watch the
fountains two years ago.
Two years; what a gulf of time it
had seemed before he crossed it, and
how short it appeared now, looking
back He could have fancied it was
only yesterday that he was lettering
under the trees, with that bright, tender
! face at his side-the face which had
guided him like a star through the
lonely year to this day. Those years
! had been eventful ones to him. Fame
had come TO him, and he was on the
high road TO fortune, too. He had left
| the pleasant land of Bohemia" and the
old nomadic life far behind him.
And Georgette, how had she Jared !?
What story would she have to tell him,
he wondered. His heart sank strange
| lv as he asked himself the question.
Not for moment did he doubt that
she would come He knew-he felt
that she would keep her word. He
longed impatiently for the meeting !;
vet, mingled with that feeling that was
vague dread which he could not I'M
derstand and could not shake off.
He stood near the statue of the water
nymph in its marble basin, looking to-
ward the upward end of the walk, from
which he expected her to appear. He
had it to himself at present, though
figures passed and repassed at each end
of the long green vista, and the usual
crowd was gathering round the basins.
''She said when the fountains play,
he muttered, consulting his watch.
1T is after four o'clock now; will they
never begin?"
Even as he spoke, the waters were
released, and he heard once more the
familiar musical sound-the rushing,
splashing, ripping, falling, all around
him.
Still the walk was solitary. To right
or left there was no approaching figure.
A dream-like feeling stole over him
as he stood thus, watching, every sense
and faculty strained III expectation.
The present and the past seemed con-
fused, and both wore an aspect of un-
reality.
At length, at the upper end Of the
glade, woman's figure appeared. He
could not yet distinguish the features,
but he knew the shape, the walk, the
dress. 1t was Georgette. His first
impulse was to rush to meet her, but
he restrained himself that he might en-
Joy the exquisite pleasure of seeing her
come to him. His heart swelled with
Joy so keen that it bordered upon pain,
and tears rushed to his eyes.
She came slowly on down the walk,
nearer and nearer, so that he could dis
tinguish every feature; nearer still,
till she paused opposite to him, with
one hand resting on the marble basin.
Still, he did not speak; he did not
stir The look Of rapturous expecta-
ton had faded from his face He stood
as if he were turned to some. Was this
Georgette? with the wan, white cheeks,
the hollow eyes, that looked at him with
such forlorn appeal; the pale lips, that
seemed to have forgotten how to smile ?
There was a moment of silence.
She gazed at him as if she were try
ing to read his heart through his eyes
her face expressed more than he could
understand Was it joy or pain, or a
strange mingling of both, that yearning,
wistful look? He could not tell. Be
fore he recovered himself sufficiently to
speak, before he could even put out his
hand to detain her-to his astonishment,
she ABRUPTLY turned from him, and pass
ed swiftly on down the walk.
He FASTENED after her, calling her to
stop, but she only quiokened her pace
and before he could overtake her she
had reached the terrace round "Nep-
tunes Basin" and was lost in the
crowd He hurried to and fro, looking
for her eagerly among the groups who
were lettering round the fountains or
sitting under the trees, Nowhere was
she to be seen. He went over the same
ground half dozen times, always re-
turning to the walk in the hope Of find
ing her there, till at length he paused
in bewilderment and CONSERVATION, and
realized that he had lost her. N
What did it mean? Why had she
fed from him? Could it be that she
had misinterpreted his manner when
they met?
At the first moment he had been too
shocked and startled to speak; had she
imagined that his love died a sudden
death when he found her so piteously
changed The thought gave him a
pang of self-reproaeh. He lOnged to
fold her in his arms and tell her that |
never before had she been so dear to
him.
He pursued his search with feverish
anxiety, but she had melted into the
crowd like rain-drop into the sea,
leaving no trace behind.
As it grew dusk, a fine penetrating
rain began to fall, and the throng of
visitors gradually dispersed, streaming
out at the gates, and along the broad, |
quiet streets to the station.
Etienpe went with the rest. He felt |
a conviction, for which he could hardly |
account, that he should find her in
Paris.
But where was he to look for her? |
That was the question he asked himself
as, after leaving the St I4azare termi-
nus, he stood hesitating in the Rue d.
Amsterdam. Then it occurred to him
that she might possibly be lodging IN
her old quarters in the Rue des Ecoles |
once more, or at any rate he might |
hear of her there.
He hailed fiacre and drove across
the water to the familiar street The
old concierge, with the Holland apron
and asselled cap of yore, was smoking
a post-prandial pipe at the door of his
lodge.
Good evening, d. Podevin, Etienne
began you don't remember me, l see,
but | was lodger of yours two years
ago"
The old man peered at him through
the dusk, and then nodded.
4 recollect you Raw, though / did
not at first. so many dodgers come and
go, you see, like the swallows, in the
course of two years" he said, APOLOGIZE.
caliy.
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