The weekly Thibodaux sentinel and journal of the 8th Senatorial District. [volume] (Thibodaux, Lna. [i.e. La.]) 1875-1898, 1884-11-29

\, 0A1s, 011A ~ AUO "A l. wv
ment later she heara sne soand o.
wheels, and looked out of the window.
Mr.. Fitzgerald, in q whitecinpel, wa
going down the drive.
"Gone to meet the Verulans in that
thing! Impossible !" cried his wife.
II ordered the carriage"
But Lucius Fitzgerald had gone to
meet the Verulams, and so had the bar
ouche. He would just drive himself to
the station and zee them into it, he
thought after all, it woald only be
courteous.
Half-past 8, and the little station at
Abbotsoeaithie is in astate Of Autter. for
the train from the south is due; visitors.
too, are expected up at "the house"
and porters are running hither and
thither, each more anxious than the
other to show assiduity and attention.
And natural enough, too. Other people
may be looking ont for friends who may
be false, for relations whom they may
not love /; but these honest fellows are
welcoming silver charms most unlikely
to prove false, and Of whose claims upon
the heart not even skeptics are skeptical.
No ono, however ensOresse they all seem,
is in SO great = state of real Auster a.
the master of "the house himself. Inn.
passive as he looks, standing there on
the platform, his usually long, pale face
just little longer and paler than ever,
his large dark eyes burning Just q little
more brightly in their deep setting oa
heavy Lash. =
Atlast the bell has rung and the train
pants with slow dignity into the sta
ton. Still Lucius Fitzgerald does not
move, but leans on, as though Watching
to be recognized, against the Office
door. A second more and the bright
color mounts to his brow, then suddenly
fades away lntoa sort Of blue pallor. He
walks forward to carriage, but with no
haste; yet, from that carriage window Is
gazing ON him . fair young girlish face,
q face such as even an Indifferent passer-
by in a crowded thoroughfare would
turn to look at i; such face a. painter
might have chosen for a Calypso when
looking seaward from tha shores of
ithaca. It had the stamp Of bliehted
love uponit
A busy porter opened the carriage
door, and Lady Constantia, Fat, rubicund
and 80, came tumbling out, "How do
you do ?"-ing with easy familiarity. He
gave his hand to the girl She did not
attempt to speak as she stepped down
on the platform, though her hand
seemed to linger in his just moment
longer than was necessary. Perhaps it
was the whispered N = darling !"
which he uttered, in q very low tone
as she stood beside him, which so sur
prised her that she forgot to be conyen-
tional.
What right had he to call her "dar-
ling, with Amelia sitting at home wait
ing for them. and in spite of the far-off
panied look in the sweet BRIDES ewes.
which should have thrust the word back
unspoken into his heart ?. It did not
bring glad look into her face, as IS dar-
ling" uttered by Lncius Fitzgerald six
months go would have done. ALI the
sunshine and Joy had died out of Birdie
Verulam's Life mnce then. She turned
away from him and spoke to her maid
about the luggage, as though seeking
refuge in tFiviality. Why had She
come to Abbotscraithie? Even Amelia,
bad she been at the station that day,
could not have failed to notice that
Birdie Verulam had been to Lucius in
the past what every law of honor for
bade that she could ever be still in the
future. Like Lucius, Birdie was accom-
pills Plishing s hss: destiny; like Lucius, she