Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1882-04-01
LA BLONDE MEEs..

"But not prefty?"
"Well, scarcely perhaps; but a voice! An! not
little flet de voix, but voice like q silver
bell-clear. sympathetic"
'Shal like Ia blonde Mees?'"
fortune.'
So far had heard-overheard; let me avow
my dishonorable action. But was ia blonde
Mees," and it was too tempting an opportunity!
The window was open; was outside, lazily en-
joying dreamy sesta in the rose bower when
1 heard the murmur Of voices. My godmother
was talking of me; and the deep, pleasant voice
asking so many questions about my insignificant
self was no other than her august nephew, the
son of her only sister, who had married an
Englshman-her fayorite, Horace Vernon. ssNo
fortune indeed" l repeated softly, and then,
clear as bell, l struck up the old song:
NY face is my fortune, sir, she said,
Sir, she said, sir, she said"
Over and over again, with every variety Of into
nation. sang the words. Suddenly / ceased
1nstinctively / felt he was nearing the window
and meditating descent in search of the singer
Hastily / fed; fear lent wings to my feet;
blindly made dash at the clipped yew hedge
and its labyrinthlne paths, when suddenly 1
arms Hospitality outstretched to save me. Re
covering myself quickly, drew back with hasty
sieur!"
He bowed. 'sMademo!selle, are you hurt?"
he said, managing to infuse much tender solicit
tude into the few words Then, with o quick
look at me, before could answer, he added:
LET me introduce myself / am Horace Yer
non; and you must be Miss Eugene Everard. I
have been hearing all about you from my
aunt"
bowed and colored wildly eyes! La
Blonde Mees,'" Ic0uld not help retorting with
q smile.
''AhI you overheard us?" he cried with ludi-
crOus expression of dismay.
Anger and the demon Of coguetry prompted
me there and then to take off my gOdmOther.
and replied in her.voice: '.Like her, yes; love
her, no; for she has no fortune"
The next moment / felt awkward and con-
fused, for had hardly realized the meaning of
the words Mr.. Vernon laughed
.Well. /" he said, II promise"
"Promise what?"
''TO like you.>
He offered me well-shaped brown hand. into
which. after a moments hesitation, l put nv
own. The fingers closed over it in a protecting
clasp and | could not but look up gratefully
into the handsome sunburnt face. and the merry
blue eyes gazing down upon me, as / ackAowl-
edged the compact we were making.
of course my readers will have already de-
cided that |. Eugene Everard, shall presently
fall in love with Mr. Horace Vernon: that he
viii reciprocate the tender feeling, and thereby
break his aunts heart and upset oil of her
deeply-laid plans. But the clear sighted reader
docs not know that am turned nineteen and
have passed those important years in the CAV
town of London, where l have left an inconsol-
able lover certain Reverend Robert Dun
combe, whose betrothal ring wear on the Or
thodOx finger, and whose photograph have
duly set in a large golden locket, with the
touching Greek words A E. /. on one side and
an impossible monogram Of r. d. E. E. in raised
hiagree work on the other.
Robert is of saving nature, and has limited
our correspondence to three times week, but
he never allows day to pass without writing,
and the budget, when it does come, is daily
journal Of his uneventful life. He wished me
to follow the same plan, but am not of regular
habits, and have declined to do more than reply
to the foos as receive them. So much for my
side. On the other, there's q certain heiress
with very large dot (millions of francs) des-
tined for Monsieur Horace. Bonne-maman par
me she expected her nephew at Dinard. have
not long since arrived from England on a six
months visit to Bonne-maman, otherwise La
COmtesse Eugene Refine Marie d'Harcourt nv
mothers old school friend, and my godmother.
was but q baby when lost both nv parents
After my father, Colonel Everard's death, lived
with my uncle, but misfortune seemed to claim
me as her OCn; my poor aunt died suddenly
and my uncle, brOken-hearted, drifted back into
an aimless state of bachelorhood. felt bur-
den upon him. Eagerly he ayailed himself of
Madame dHarcOurt's invitation to me. and
promptly saw me Off to Southampton, from
whence was shipped to st. MalO. There was
met by the Countess man-Of-a ll.wOrk Jean
Pierre, and with him crossed over to Dinard,
where Bonne-maman lived in bright, cheerful
white house, with green jalOusieS, standing in
an Old-fashiOned garden, being near the beach
and the lovely bay with its glittering sands of
sparkling black granite. Madame d'Harcourt
gave me hearty welcome to Maison Maloune,
and Perrine, the comedy. black haired, bright
eyed maid, stared at me approvingly and adj
mlfpd TRAVELLING nf oh
much as did her wonderful lace cuffs, fixed on
with gold pins, and her black silk bib apron over
her neat stuff gown.
month had passed rapidly, and I never
WaVered In my belief in my godmother until
this fatal morning, when l experienced the
truth of the Old adage, and listening, had heard
no good of myself. / was nothing absolutely
nothing, to B0nne-maman. All her heart was
with the young man who had only just arrived
from England, with whom she had been discuss
ing me as stranger. As II should ever seek
to win the affections ofan engaged man! More
over, am l not myself engaged? Shall I tell
her, and make her quite comfortable? No:I
resolved will not do So but let her feel if ever
SO slightly, uneasy.
Yes, as we are both safe. will make myself
as fascinating as can. Horace Vernon is to
marry Mdlle Berthe de Pontiac and am to
marry the Rev. Robert, SO there can be no harm
in little filtration, and shall let things take
their course.
III.
Things do take their course and a very plea
SAINT course 1t is. The days pass quickly, and
have no time to write letters. The Dmard
bathing season will soon be at its height The
Partisan world, including Mdlle. Berthe de Pom
tao, will be here-so Bonne-maman tells me:
Horace never mentions her, often long to ask
him about her, but shy feeling closes my fps
Do dread that her name should break the spell
Of happiness cast round my life2
Alas after some weeks Of delightful enioy-
ment the spell was broken, and by Bonnie
Horace had fixed my imaginations BY a glow
ing account Of fresh blackberries, the finest.
blacklist, sweetest that ever was seen Work.
ing upon my enthusiasm, he promised to take
me a-blackberrying.
The next morning, in high glee, we sailed
forth; he armed with q stout hooked stick,
with basket. Past a cottage, with q bright
eyed maiden tending her pet lamb In the
kitchen, while her mother was sitting at the
spinning wheel In the morning SUM- Through
lanes so narrow, We had to scramble up the
steep bank to let the great white horses with
the numbering wagons 60 by. Through bush.
through briar" we went and never q blackberry
did see. At last, ! ventured to remark upon
the singular fact Of the flowers and buds being
still In full bloom. heard slight chuckle,
and v<.< r. trD<.