The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1880-09-30


and are not Gu tuit in the customs
hereabouts. Do grant your pardon,
and allow me to atone for my awk-
Wardness i'll any way you choose"
He was certainly the handsomest
man Germainc had ever seen, and
perfect gentlemen in manner and
speech, despite the exceedingly plain
clothes he wore.
And Germaine, under the grave, yet
half-amused gravity Of his handsome,
serious eyes, began to think she had
displayed very silly temper. Then
she suddenly relaxed into smile that
was like warm sunshine, making her
beautiful eyes flash, and the dimples
coquct in cheek and chin.
ooh, well-I was so awfully fright
cned! / do-perfectly-ha dogs
cycling uneasily the magnificent crea-
turc standing by his masters side
"and, besides, / was il such deep
thought, and it came so suddenly, and
yes, am pretty we'll ashamed of
myself, and-I beg your pardon"
The charming ',asvete Of her manner
and the graciously sweet honesty of
her words were simply the essence of
refreshment to Leonard Burnfeld, to
whom, ever since he could remember,
women had been so exceedingly exas-
perating, uncompromisingl sweet, and
gracious, and fawning. and-yet, eager
to please.
otis a bargain. You will forgive
me, and I am only too happy to par
don you. And may have the pleas
ure of knowing your name?"
A tinge of warm color swept over
her face. Then she laughed at him
frankly, looking at him seriously.
81 would rather not, please. It can
make no difference. You-are stra1l-
ger to me-and I am-quite sure man.
ma would rather-not."
He lifted mis- cap almost reverently.
"You and your mother are right.
Forgive me. Come, my dogw
And he smiled, and went on, and
Germaine, with heart curiously STIR
red, continued her solitary walk, but
with thoughts and emotions that for
the first time in her life were new and
strangely sweet to her.
~ While Leonard Burnfield walked
thoughtfully on, his face full of a "a
dance that he never thought could
again have been called there bv the
sight Of q woman OF the sound of her
voice.
"The fairest face ever saw, and the
sweetest, noblest, purest soul looks
out of the tender eyes! Can it be
possible have come home to find nv
fate in the first little country girl T
happen to cross? And that, too, when
Merrivale has got that magnificent
daughter Of his all cut and dried for
the position of mistress of Stonebank!'
Hc laughed, and whistled to the dog.
"Come, Lion! It's mile walk back
to Stonebank, and we are hungry,
aren't WEI"
Only, eating or drinking, waking or
sleeping, he could not get the face of
Germaine De Courcy out of his mind,
nor even when, the next day, as he
sat at the open window of the Merri-
vale drawing room, hearing Constance
play on her grand piano for his espe-
cial delectation.
"One moment, please" he said, alb
ruptly, as she paused "tell me who
this young girl is coming towards the
house,"
And Miss Merrivale looked out, and
elevated her nose at an angle unmen-
tionable. @
"Oh, that! She is the most disagree
able, impudent little mink to be found
for miles around! Do you know, Mr..
Burnfeld, she had the insolence to re-
fuse to sew for me because she could
not fix her own price? And they are
as poor as church mice, too"
Mr.. Burnfield looked politely in
terested.
s.Indeed! Who is the family?"
''The De Courcys; and the imperti-
nent little thing plumes herself on her
outlandish name-Germaine. Horrid.
isn't it,"
every odd, indeed" he said, courte-
ously, but the name sounded like a
silver.bell to him-Germaine de Cour-
ey: Gerinaine de Courcy, the old Nor
man name suited her as the odor of a
'li!y.of. the.valley: suited its tiny vel
Iett.white bell: =:
= And TWO hours afterward mounted
groom delivered at the cottage door
an invitation to Miss Germaine de
Courcy to attend the reception at
Stonebank. At which Germaine's
eyes fairly danced.
"Isn't it just too delicious for any,
thing, mamma? I do wonder how
they ever came to think of us-we
don't know them-nor they us. But
let's go mamma. I'll fix up 'the' black
silk, and you can wear your little bit
of real lace for cap, and I'll do up
my white dress-oh, mamma, Pm just
dying to have good dance once
mOre.''
And in the pleasant excitement of
preparation, Gcrlnaine almost forgot
the handsome stranger and his keen
respectful eyes. Until, on the Thurs
day evening, looking like fairy in
her white dress, and natural flowers in
her hair and at herfair throat, with
her gentle, delicate mother clinging so
proudly and so afectionately to her,
somebody introduced her to-Mr.
Leonard Burnfeld, the heir of Stone-
band, and the gentleman she had. met
on his own premises, whom she had
spoken to so cavalierly, to whom she
would not give her name.