The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1882-05-09
LA BLONDE MEES. .

nificent
1 {" But not pretty"
"WeIl. scarcely parhaps; but voice
! All not a little fiiet de Uoix, but voice
! Ike silver bell-clear, sympathetic"
"shall like ia blonde MeesS"
"Like her, yes; love her, no; Tor she
has no fortune"
So far had heard-overheard; let me
ayow nv 9ishonorable action. But i was
ola blonde Mees,v and IL was too tempting
an opportunity The window was open ;
| was outside, lazily enjoying a dreamy
siesta I'm the rose-bower, when l heard the
murmer OF voices. My godmother was
talking of me; and the deep, pleasant voice
asking so many questions about my insig-
nifjcant self was no other than her august
nephew, the son OF her only sister, who
had married an Englishman-he favorite.
Horace Vernon. "No fortune indeed" l
repeated softly, and then, clear as a bell, l
struck up the old song:
any face Is my fortune, sir, she said,
SIR, she said, sir she said"
over and over again, with every variety OF
information, | sang the words. Suddenly |
ceased. Instinctiyely felt he was nearing
the window and meditating a descent in
search OF the singer. Hastily l fled; fear
lent wings to my feet; blindly made a
dash at the clipped yew hedge and its laby-
rinthine paths, when suddenly / stumbled,
and should have fallen but for the arms
hospltably outstretched TO save me. Re-
covering myself quickly, drew back with
hasty dignity and exclaimed in my best
French. "Monsicur !"
He bowed. Mademoiselle, are you
hurt? ?" he said, managing to infuse much
tender solcitude into the few words.
Then, with quick look at me, before |
could answer, he added: "Let me intro
duce myself. am Horace Vernon; and
YOU must be Miss Eugene Everard.
have been hearing all about you from my
aunt"
bowed and colored wildly. "Yes |!
'La Blonde Mees,'" / could not help re-
tOrting with a smile.
"Ah, you overheard us !" he cried,
with ludicrous expression Of dismay.
Anger and the demon OF coquetry
prompted me there and then to take of
my godmother, and replied in her voice :
" Like her? Yes. Love her? No; for she
has no fortune"
confused, for | had hardly realized the
meaning OF the words. Mr. Vernon
laughed.
"Well," he said, 81 promise"
"Promise what ?"
ITO like you.'
He offered me wel-shaped brown hand.
into which, after moments hesitation,
put my own. The fingers closed over It i'm
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 | acknowledged the compact
We were making.
OF course my readers will have already
decided that /, Eugene Everard, shall pre-
sently fall i'm love with Mr.. Horace Yer
non; that he will rcciprOcate the tender
feeling, and thereby break his aunt's heart
and upset all OF her deeply-laid plans. But
the clear-Sighted reader does not know that
! am turned nineteen and have passed those
important years in the gay town Of Lon
don, where | have left an inconsoable
lover. y certain Reverend Robert Dun
cOmbe, whose betrothal ring i wear on the
orthodox finger, and whose photograph ]
have duly set in a large golden locket, with
the touching Greek words a. T.. /. on one
side, and an impossible monogram OF Il. ID.
L. T.. i'm raised filagTee work on the other.
limited our correspondence to three times
week; but he never allows day to pass
without writing, and the budget, when il
does come, is a daily journal Of his I'M
eventful life. He wished me to follow the
same plan, blt am not OF regular habits,
and have declined to do more than reply
TO the folios as / receive them. 80 much
for my side. On the other, there's
IaiFssS Of
millions Of francs) destined for Mon
sieur Horace. Bonnc-maman particularly
impressed this upon me when she told
me she expected her nephew at Dinard.
have not long since arrived from England
Oh six months visit to BOnne-maman,
otherwise La Comtesse Eugene RENE
Marie dlIarcourt, my mothers old school
friend and my gOdmother. / was but
baby when | lost both my parents. After
my fathers, Colonel Everard's, death
lived with my uncle; but misfortune
seemed to claim me as her own. Nv poor
aunt died suddenly, and my uncle, broken
hearted, drifted back into an aimIess state
of bachelorhood: | felt a burden upon
him. Eagerly he ayailed himself Of Madame
dllarcourts invitation to me, and promptly
saw me of TO southampton, from whence
| was shipped TO st. MalO. There | was
met by the Countess's man-Of-all-work, Jean
Pierre, and with him crossed over TO
Dnard, where BOnnc-maman lived i'm
bright, cheerful white house, with green
ialousies, standing in an Old-fashiOned gar
den, being near the beach and the lovely
bay with its glttering sands Of sparkling
black granite. Madame d'lIarcourt gave
me Il hearty welcome to MaisOn Malounie,
and Perrine, the cOmely, black-haired,
maid, stared at me approyngly.
and admired my travelling garb OF English
alpaca as much as did her wonderful lace
cuffs, fixed on with gold pins, and her
black silk bib apron over her neat stuff
gown.
A month had passed rapidly, and never
wavered in my belief in my gOdmOther |
until this fatal morning, when | expert |
enced the truth OF the old adage, and |
listening, had heard no good of myself. |
was nothing, absolutely nothing, to Bonnie |
All her heart was with theyoung |
man who had only just arrived from Eng |
land, with whom she had been discussing |
me as a stranger. AS il | should ever seek |
to win the affections OF an engaged man ! |
am not myself engagedi Shall |
/ tell her, and make her quite comforta- |
BILE No; 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 Pom |
tao, and | am to marry the Rev. Robert, so |
there can be no harm in a little Irritation, |
and shall let things take their course.
III.
Things do take their course, and very |
pleasant course it is. The days pass quick
", and | have no time to write letters. |
The Dinard bathing season will soon be at |
L. hninln lLn DnIi. inI, .,-orlI i.,olI,Li..o-