Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1882-12-28

ouSS aHecCoO, nurIleQly walked through
the crticizing audience, and, leaving
my mantle in Perrine's care, was soon
disporting myself in the crisp, sunny
waves. After a longer swim than usual
| waded out dripping Niobe. looked
for Perrine and my wrapper-in vain !;
she was nowhere to be seen. After o
momentary hesitation prepared to run
the gantlet of the assembled multitude
and make quick rush at my sheItering
cabane.
With sudden inspiration, unloos-
ened my long, hair and let its shining,
golden glory fall around my costume.
thereby trying to feel a little less abject.
and so made my way through the
'smob, as I spitefully called the loung-
ers surrounding the cabanes. With q
ludicrous sense of humiliation and fam
ing cheeks, I saw Horace in lively con-
versation with a Partisan elegante, ex-
actly in front of my haven of refuge. I
made frantic dart at the canvas door.
to be greeted with the sight of an un-
mistakable pair of manly boots. I
turned and Aed-oh, miscric in my
confusion / had forgotten the number.
must pass them, vaguely wondering if
beach etiquette expected me to acknowl-
edge Horace. Iprepared for another dash
when lady obligingly pointed out q
canvas tent with q polite "c'est la.
naodenaoiselle," and rushed to hide my
bushes under the friendly canvas. On
my return, Bonne-maman told me she
expected the Baroness de Pontiac and her
daughter and Horace.
Although was brokenhearted. vanity
was not dead I determined to look my
best. 1 gathered my hair in knot, and
placed among the wavy fringe of curls
some gorgeous crimson tinnias. I half
feared rebuke from Bonnie maman as
to being over-dressed-so slipped on
back silk gown, wherein had artfully
inserted white lace tucker and shiny
Embroidered ruff1es; another cluster
OF scarlet tinnias and black mittens fin
ished off the severe and unbecoming
costume, in which I entered the room
prepared to make the acquaintance of
the hateful de Potacs.
Mile. Berthe only was there, arrayed
IN fashionable attire, and was scarcely
surprised to recognize in her Horace's
lively companion Of the morning. Hor-
ace behaved beautifully in Bonnie
maman's eyes. After greeting me coldly,
he overlooked my insignificant presence,
lost in the empowering brill1ancy Of
sparkling and amusing Bethe. She alb
sorbed him entirely. They were making
arrangements for a trip to- Mont ST.
Michel, where he and 1 had talked of
going. How wretched I felt, how wild
with the scraps I heard: "Train from
st. Malo-carriage at Dol, on to the
Hospice." I must make diversion,
and somewhat abruptly asked Mile.
de Pontiac to play or sing. In vain
Bonne-maman objected that it was get
ting dusk, and she did not want lights,
as it rested her eyes. Mile. Berthe,
gracefully shaking out her pufs and
laces, sweetly observed that she would
play for Nine. d'Harcourt, and sing for
mademoisel1e.
She ratified through a noisy and brill
liant piece, and then her voice, sharp and
metallic, filed the air Isl vous n'avez
rien ma dire" She was singing it at
Horace, who, apparently buried in
thought, was sitting near her. won.
dered if he remembered it as one of the
songs I had often sung to him. Bonnie
maman coughed and fidgeted and shiv-
cred; Mile. Berthe bravely sang on,
sometimes fiat, sometimes sharp, finish
ing up at last on note that Jared every
nerve and fiber.
Horace was profuse in thanks, and !,
too, thanked her, and added immedi-
ately /: "Shan sing you little En-
glish ballad ?" Bonne-maman inter-,
rupted me to order the lamp, but I
maliciously remarked that would sing
twilight song first. I could not resist
my anticipated triumph. Straight from
my heart the words rang out, "In the
Gloaming," and vibrating strangely
through the dusk came the farewell to
my love, mine no longer "Best for
you and best for me-"
1 must have sung better than usual,
from the deep silence paid as tribute to
my talent, and, under cover of the dark
ness, I rose, and. stealing silently to the
door, sought the friendly night wherein
to hide my sorrow. Perrine met me
with the lamp, and, leaving the hateful
light and the happy circle, 1 turned
away to the garden.
~.
Hurriedly went past the clipped yew
hedge, to the stone seat, on which I
sank, and, burying my face in my hands,
burst into passionate tears. I was young,
and this. my first sorrow, seemed too
great burden. I heard footsteps, and,
shrinking back into the shadow of the
hedge, waited breathlessly. They were
passing, when the treacherous moon
shone out and bathed me in food of
silvery light. A hand was kindly laid
upon my head. There, in all the glory
Of his six-foot stature, in the white shin
ing moonlight, stood Horace, looking
down with kind and plying eyes upon
the tear-stained face uplifted to him !;
and in the winning voice of old I heard
my name.
"Eugenie, what is it?"
Nothing" murmured.
He bent to hear my trembling an
Bwer.
Nothing that I can do 2"
Nothing that 1 can undo" re-
piled. <.......-
Lower and lower he bent, and nearer
and nearer, in dangerous proximity, had
il not been for Berthe. Her shadow
was between us. Tenderly taking my
cold hands in his, he stroked them
gently. Suddenly he gave start.
Where is it ?" and he passed his fin
Ill,