The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1880-12-16

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lad feel at home in Bristol. To-day
as she sat watching him from behind
her desk-Eileen was very fond of
watching Yves-she saw the tear fall
and she heard the sigh which follow
ed it.
This evident sorrow panied her af-
fectionate heart and seemed to her a
tacit reproach. She had managed her
fathers house for some years, for her
mother had died young, and it seemed
to the girl that it must be her duty to
make all the inmates of her home as
happy as she could. She could talk
very little to Yves, except by signs,
but she took care always to look very
sweetlY at him,
She leaned forward now so that her
curls fell over ter desk, and with a
tender smile she asked Yves as well as
she could what allied him..
He bowed his thanks for her SYM
pathy in a formal, respectful manner,
but he shook his head. Pardon" he
said in his broken way, Il have not
words; but sank you, mees."
Eileen bends her head down so as
to hide her face, and then she frowns
and bites her pretty, pouting lip.
Its all very well of papa to say
am to be kind to poor Mr.. Duroc, but
he is so formal, so repelling. I'm sure
he could say more if he tried, he
seems to be always reminding me that
| am mistress, and he is man, and
then | feel as if-as if''-she grows
very rosy-'I had forgotten myself,
and been too forward, and yet I'm
sure he's as good as we are. See him
in his Sunday clothes. Why he looks
born gentleman now he wears small
shirt-collars."
For Mr.. Smith had presented Yves
with suit of clothes, and had also
advised him to give up any unusual
articles of clothing lest he should get
annoyed by the rabble who in those
days were always ready to torment a
Frenchman.
Yves's eyes are again fixed on his
work and Eileen sits gazing at him,
puzzling over his sorrow. She sits
for some time each day in the shop.
but her labors there are slight, and
she has nothing to do when these are
ended but to try and amuse Yves, and
watch his dark, interesting face.
Monsieur Duroc."
Yves has been sitting silent and alb
sorbed in his work He looks up at
the sound of his name, and there is
Eileen standing beside him with one
hand full of chocolate drops.
'Mangez, she smiles sweetly, and
opening her mouth, shows her little
pearly teeth.
Yves protests with both hands and
bows.
Sank you, mees," he says, and he
takes two or three of the chocolate
drops, but he goes back to his work.
and Eileen feels as far off from him
as ever.
He makes me miscbievous,'' she
says, Il believe if | pulled his hair he'd
bow and say, Sank you, mees.' Won't
you shake hands, monsieur?" she says,
and she holds out her hand.
1t is pretty hand, small and white,
with plump, pink palm.
Yves looks at her doubtfully; and
then again bowling he rises respect
fully and puts his brown hand into
hers.
But it is a mere formal handclasp,
and he lets her hand fall quickly.
Eileen is mortified, but she remem-
bers that her father has promised to
take her for walk, and she is glad to
escape and put on her bonnet.
As they walk along side by side, the
tall, silent father, though he looks so
proud of his pretty daughter, and he
is fattered by the admiring looks she
receives from passers-by.
He asks her briefly how she gets on
with the young Breton.
Eileen pouts. He is civil and re-
spectful, but he is so dull at learning
English" A little flush rises on her
cheeks, but she does not find it neces-
sary to tell her father of this morn
ing's episode, Il am sure he has a
trouble on his mind, poor fellow, per-
haps he is home-sick."
Poor lad" says Mr.. Smith, ''per-
haps he is"
Meanwhile Yves breathes more free
ly, he can sigh as much as he pleases,
in Miss Smiths absence.
'Mees Eileen" is kind, so very kind,
that the grateful fellow cannot bear
to grieve her, and he has gathered that
his sadness troubles her. He would
like to confde in Eileen, to pour out
to her all his love for Liszen, all his
struggles to make home for her, tell
her of the yearning heart-sickness to
see Liszen and his native place once
again which is eating away his life.
But how can he? "Mees Eileen" is
very kind, but then to poor Yves she
is lady, the daughter of his proud
master. Yves is still rather afraid of
Mr. Smith, they cannot speak freely
enough to understand one another,
and so the assistant is misled by the
clock-makers manner, and thinks him
more cold and reserved than he really
is.
"They are all kind and good, very
good" he says sadly; ''but it is sad
and strange to be here. Even if /
wished to tell Mees Eileen, | have no
words, and | should say nonsense
words, as | sometimes do, and she
would laugh, and could not let any
one laugh at Liszen, no."
The poor fellow felt that his love
was too deep, too sacred to be told to
such stranger as Mees Eileen. sweet
and kind as she was. 1t may be that
he had a doubt which he had thought
too ungrateful to acknowledge
doubt whsther this sunny-haired,
bright girl could sympathize with
such love as he felt for Liszen. His
idea of Eileen-and as he could not
talk to her his idea was of course the