The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1882-04-05

win trembling hands l drew ol
the fatal ring, and going to my room
laid it with the locket and addresse,
the parcel to the Rev. Robert Dun
combe, and straightway wrote an,
asked for my freedom. Icould bea
the thrall no more. I must be free
| wrote kindly, feeling dimly tn
pain | was inficting bnt at all risk
| must be free.
III.
Horace was staying at Dinan
The Baroness de Pontiac had arrived
and called on Nine. d'Harcourt. o
course, on Horace's return he woult
be dancing attendance on his fan
Gee.
Robert had written. I was to-
depressed to feel wounded at th,
tone of his reply, or might have re
sented his agreeing with me on th,
desirability Of breaking off the en-
gagement. In a postscripthe added
that he had the promise ofthe vicar
age of Capel-le-Ferne, andits 81 ,50t
a year and came to the conclu
sion that his JOY at his worldly ad
vancement had taken away the stin.
from his hearts adversely. l wa.
thankful that it was so. The morn.
ing was clear and bright, and swim
in the sea was tempting remedy tt
drown dull care, SO | strolled dowr
leisurely to the beach. l was late
and when / emerged from my ''ca
bane" found a crowd of gossipins
idlers in possession of every chail
and available seat. Not a nook OF
corner but was filled with gay cou
Piles, working, smoking and ''frivol
ing"
Classically draped in my white
wrapper, my hair piled up on high
undisfgured with the oilskin caE
that French ladies affected, l bur
riedly walked through the CRITICS
ing audience, and leaving my man.
tie in Perrine's care, was soon dis.
porting-mvself in the crisp sunny
waves. After a longer swim than
usual / waded out a dripping Niobe
l looked for Perrine and my wrap
perm vain she was nowhere te
be seen. After a momentary hesita
ton prepared to run the gauntlet
of the assembled multitude and
make a quick rush at my sheiterins
"cabane."
With sudden inspiration, / un'
loosed my long hair and let its shin
ing golden glory fall around my cos
tune, thereby trying to feel little
less abject, and so made my way
through the mob" as l spitefully
called the loungers surrounding the
cabanes. With a ludicrous sense Of
humiliation and flaming cheeks,
saw Horace in lively conversation
with Partisan elegante, exactly in
front of my haven of refuge. Imade
a frantic dart at the canvas door, to
be greeted with the sight of an un-
mistakable pair of manly boots. |
turned and fled-oh I! miserie in
my confusion / had forgotten the
number. l must pass them, vague
ly wondering if beach etiquette ex-
pected me to acknowledge Horace.
I prepared for another dash-when
a lady kindly pointed out canvas
tent with polite "c'est la, mademoi-
selle," and | rushed in to hide my
bushes under the friendly canvas.
On my return, Bonne-maman told
me that she expected the Baroness
de Pontiac and her daughter and
Horace.
Although l was broken-hearted,
vanity was not dead +; | determined
to look my best. / gathered my
hair in q knot, and placed among
the wayy fringe of curls some gor-
geous crimson tipnlas. half fear
ed rebuke from Bonne-maman as
to being over-dressed-so slipped on
a black silk gown, wherein l had
artfully inserted white lace tucker
and shiny jet embroidered ruffles ;
another cluster ofscarlet tinnias and
black mittens finished off the severe
and becoming costume, in which l
entered the room prepared to make
the acquaintance of the hateful de
Pontacs.
Mdlle Berthe only was there, ar
raved in fashionable attire, and /
was scarcely surprised to recognize
in her Horace's lively companion Of
the morning. Horace behaved beau
tifully in Bonne-maman's eyes. Af-
ter greeting me coldly, he overlook
ed my Insignificant presence, lost in
the overpowering brilliancy of the
sparkling and amusing Berthe. She
him entirely. They were
making arrangements for trip to
Mount st. Michael, where he and l
had talked of going. How wretch
ed l felt, how wild with the scraps l
heard: "Train from st. Malo-car-
riage at Dol, on the Hospice." l
must make a diversion, and some
what abruptly asked MdlIe. de Pom
tao to play or sing. In vain Bonnie
objected that it was getting
dusk and she did not want lights,
as l rested her eyes. Mdlle. Berthe,
shaking out her puffs and
laces, sweetly observed that she
would play for Nine. d'Harcourt,
and sing for Mademoiselle.
She ratified through a noisy and
brilliant niece, and then her voice,
sharp and metallic, filled the air
Isl vous n'ayez rien a me dire" She
y . singing it at Horace, who, ap-
buried in thought, was sit
ting near her. wondered if he re,
it as one of the songs /
had often sung to him. Bonne-ma-
man coughed and fidgeted and shiv-
cred !; Mdlle. Berthe brayely sung
on, sometimes fat, sometimes sharp,
at last on q note that Jared