The Arkansaw traveler., 1884-11-15

with her crimson hodsce and her black eyes, half-bold, half sorrowful, and hear the notes of the different instruments."
 We'll" said the mother, smiling, |" If Francois is the artist of the family, Mar guezite is certainly the poet. for no one but . poet could hear all that in one single tune.
 Marguerite blushed with modest plea sure and surprise. It vas Francuis who usually received all the compliments.
 "No, indeed" she protested. "lt is Francois who is the gilted ooe; my father is the skilled artisan, who has wrought his inspiration into harmony and L. weIl-I am but girl, vho can only love you all, and work Tor your happiness" CHAPTER II.
 It was early evening. Around the home of the Beauverts, and in the valley below, the twilight shadows were fast growing into darkness. To the nosth- ward the sunset splendor gilded the fr- o6 tops of the Juras. A faint mist rose and curied up from the meadow in the valley below nov and then . night-bird called drowsily to its mate in the branches, and the sound of the distant cataract grew louder and then fainter. as the night breeze came in 6tful pufEs down the mountain. Francois and Marguerite sas outside the cottage, on . bench together. Marguerite was knitting; for though the light had suddenly become too dim for hex to sec her work, long habit and con- stant practice enabled her to Init almost as veil in the dark as in the daylight.
 Marguerite said Francois suddenly, am going to America"
 To America! To that far-off country Oh, Francois '"
 "M arguerite, you see that our father is growing older and more feeble every day. Two years in succession has the blight fallen on our grspes, notvith- standing our vineyard lies on the sunniess dope in all the neighboghood, and we are growing poorer each year. Something must be done, and who is there to do it but me2 In that country, where thev make fortunes % quickly and % easily, ] can ind plenty of employment; and the people will not only appreciate my work. but they also pay like princes, it is i said.n
 Marguerite's tears flowed fast. She could not imagine what life would be without Francois; besides, how could he leave such beautiful country as this and go to barbarous country like America, where the rulers of the country were fierce red men, who thought nothing of scalp- ing their subjects tor no offence whatever. She had read all about it in little book that Jacques had lent her. To be sure. the people were not 90 black as Lisette Codin declared, for she had sometimes seen them tourists, who had called at the chalet for a g'ass of milk, or to en- gage Francois to act as guide in their wandeungs about the neiehborhood.
 From this time Francois grew silent, pre-occupied. He thought over the pro- ject of going to America until the dream became m absorbing passion. He no longer sang snd whisiled over his wood- carving the impromptu matches of mel ody that wove themselves halt-uncou- sciously ints measures and cadences in his brain, but sat over his work, silent and morose. His mother, who doted upon her son with the unreasoning fond- ness of one whose mind was weakened by long suffering, became quesulous and exacting through sympathy with . trouble she could not understand. and re- quired more of Murguerite's attention than ever-nay. she even vent % far as to upbraid Francois himself "Alasi that the good God should Q sffi;ct ooe," sh would muSmur. Poverty, sickness. and nov the enssrangement of my sen, who no longer loves me. But he is in love-yes, that 1t is without doube; and who, then, should it be but that black eyed Liseste ? A gid vho has had all the young men in the paTish for lovers, and who must nov charm away iron me my FrancoiA" During those days of trouble and despair it was MarEuesite vho cheered and upheld the hmily. She soothed and paci6ed her mother. vas most fond and aAectionate so her feeble old father, and indulged Francois by list. ening to his wild schemes when no one else vas by to hear.
 "What viii become of met vas the question she ollen asked in utter despair, if could only do someshingi but then, there is nothing can do. lfl were only a genius now, ike Francois 1"
 Oheu she would be awakened at night by hearing FrancoiA alter his parents were asleep. steal quiesly outdoor to stride madly up and down the mountain aide, and lseeaing b the sound of his footsseps and the mingled rush and roar of wind and waterfall would fall asleep upon pillow that vas vet with tears.
 One day when Francois went to the l market town to sell his wood-casvinRs, he l accidentally found an American gentle- man at the shop where he usually sold his wares. who bought all the pieces he | had, at prices that seemed fabulousto the | unsophisticated boy.
 want them for friend of mine vho | hes fancy for this sort of thinR,n the | genueman said, in rather imperfect | Preach. wish you had as many more. l would like to have you carve . mansel | Tor my library, if you only had an Amer ican design to work trom."
 A sudden inpulse overmaseered Fran- co.'s. "l am going b America vesy soon, he began, almoa without knov-