Charlotte messenger. [volume] (Charlotte, Mecklenburg Co., N.C.) 1882-18??, 1883-04-28

| WHcu Jllc pOOr lduJ udu huOWH WudL
it was to subsist upon the slenderest
of rations, but now the fame of her
exquisite embroideries in chenille and
silk was noised abroad, while her oc-
casional scholars, like Cora Bell and u
! few liberal Americans of the same
set, made up an income sufficient for
the widows wants.
Madame Blanchet, sitting at the
open window overlooking an ivy
covered wall that just here formed the
boundary of the Bois de BoulOgne, felt
quite wistful with regret over the nom
appearance of her favorite scholar.
"She will not come now." the widow
said to herseh, as the inevitable man.
tel clock struck cheerful, loud-voiced
some" Truly, she has twined her
self into my heart, that chere petite
Cora. How she laughs and dances and
sings her life away! Just like that
other one--so many years ago." A
shiver ran over the little woman's
frame, and she closed her eye, as if to
Danish some painful image. my
pretty Cora will never know so sad
fate as hers, thank lie bon Dieu." A
light step upon the stairway, and
Cora, blooming with health and ami
nation, came into the room.
Don't scold. dear madame. There
is time enough vet for chapter of
our book before they send for me-"
The lesson began, but Cora's atten-
tion wandered; her thoughts flew off
at tangent; her eyes grew dreamy;
a deeper rose-color settled in her
cheeks. At last little white protest
ing hand was laid across madame's
page.
"Blanchet, dear, want to confess
to somebody. Won't you be my
priest? You know that papa is in
America attending to business al
ways, and that mamma is forever
going out. I've nobody but that
stupid Parker of mine, and talk l
must-I must. Oh, Blanchet. if such
a thing can be, l am too happy All
of this dear blessed morning he has
been with me, and mamma has given
her consent, and we are to be married
SOON"
And then, the fiood-gates loosed,
came stream of joyous confidence.
Cora never thought to look up at her
listener until she felt hot tear. then
another, drop upon her hands cla5ped
in the widows lap.
"What is it, dear madame ? what
have | said to pain you2" the girl
asked, wondering, to be answered by
fit of bitter sobbing. With kind and
gentle words Cora soothed her frienfs
emotion. and at last Madame Blanchet
was able to speak once more.
Forgive me, dearest young lady,
she exclaimed. "In truth l never can
fol give myself. l owe it to you to
explain my weakness. See here: this
picture which you have often caught
a glimpse of in my desk. Look at it
Judge for yourself of her youth, her
innocence, her beauty. She was my
only child, and have lost her forever.
Years ago she knelt as you do now,
and poured out to me the wealth OF
her love and happiness under circum-
stances like yours. The rest Is TOO
painful for you to hear"
"Tell me more" the girl said, ten
derly. 81 would be selfish indeed If l
refused my sympathy at "A time when
all seems so bright before me"
Little by little the story was re-
vealed. Ten years before Leonl
Blanchet had been sought in marriage
by a wealthy Englishman, to whom
her mother had given her with some
misgiving, watching her 60 from that
modest home into life of luxury with
many anxious fears. The husband
Leonie had chosen was handsome,
young and winning; he had made good
his claim to a rank and station far
above Leonie's expectations. Leonle
adored him. What, then. was there to
apprehendp The widow could not
tell. but still Leonie's first letters
came to her so full Of boyant pride, OF
confident happiness, that for a time
the mother could not but reflect 1t.
The young couple were absent upon
their wedding journey in the South,
and had reached Rome, when thun-
dAr-bolt fell upon the pretty, trustful
bride. The man whom Leonie be-
lieved to be her husband had left his
true wife in England-a gay, fashion
able beauty, sufficiently "emanci-
pated," according to the notions of her
class, to mock openly and lightly at
her husbands latest fancy.
"But this is not for you to hear, my
child" the little French teacher said.
Cora. who from motives of delicacy
had avoided looking at her friend,
glanced hastily up, struck by the sup