The state journal. [volume] (Harrisburg, Pa.) 1883-1885, 1884-09-27

as he carelessly bent over to look. At
the same moment the child eyes caught
sight of him, and little half shy
Mother from his lips, in her ear, made
the girl turn and look up, too.
The veranda was raised about four feet
from the ground, and the young mother,
holding her boy in her arms, stood in the
middle of the trimly-kept garden, about
eight or nine yards from it.
AS she raised her eyes, they met those
of the young man gazing full at her.
There was one moment of intense still =
ness, when the very breath refused to come
from their parted lips, as the two looked
straight into each others horror stricken
eyes, when their white faces looked as if
their every curve and line had been frozen
into marble.
Then low cry broke from the lips of
the girl more like the moan ofsome dumb,
death-stricken animal, and she drew back
to hurry toward the little gate.
ooh, my angel fowers?" cried the
child in passion of delight, as the good
woman of the inn came running down the
path, her arms full of the stately, fragrant
flowers.
"Ah, there then, madame. He is wei
come to them all. He is little angel.
Mais ciel! how i'll you look You are tired
out Stay and rest little longer. l must
go in now and attend on Nine. de Vismes,
who is waiting here with monsieur Tor her
carriage. But in the little arbor-no, you
cannot? Well, an reOO5r; you must come
again with the little one.
The girl mechanically took the flowers
that the woman heaped into her arms.
She stood still while the child was being
kissed, but heard nothing of the parting
words of admiration and endearment, saw
nothing ofthe plying, half-doubtful looks
cast at herself by the mistress of the inn,
who did not at all like her starting out
with such white face and lips. She was
dizzy and faint, and her brain seemed to
have lost its power of understanding.
AS the gate of the inn garden fell to
with a sharp click behind her, the lady
on the balcony, with something of the
same shadow of fear upon her face, turned
to her son. He had raised himself from
his leaning position, and was standing
rigid and upright, gazing after the retreat
ing figure. His mother laid her hand
upon his arm.
Armand, who is that woman ?"
"That woman" He looked down into
her face with the very spirit of bitter
mockery in his eyes: "That woman is my
wife, and that child"
His strained voice stopped with sud-
den dry sob in his throat, and he broke
into short laugh, the desolate pain of
which went like the stab of dagger to
to the hearers heart. He turned alb
ruptly and went back into the room.
Madame de Vismes stood where he left
her, her hand resting on the iron rail
ing, on which she had laid 1t as if for
support,
''And that child my grandson. ""ApreS
tout, it was a terrible risk"
Then the color returned family to her
cheeks, and some of the old brightness,
born of her indomitable will and pride,
to her eyes, clearing the mist of doubt
ing fear that had dimmed their keen
ness.
cit was a terrible risk, bitter neces-
sity, but, after all, we could not have had
a daughter in law without name and for
tune, and he would not have given her
up. He has the De Vismes will-thank
heaven! their pride, too, otherwise we
should not have succeeded. But that
pride-it is their weakness as well as
their strength-it blinds even loves eyes,
1t might not have been necessary if Jules
had lived, but Armand, as heir to the
land, needed different wife. But the
child, he was beautiful; and the mother
he was right, she is lady; but then
something else was needed. But how
pale she was, and dressed so poorly; it
would be terrible if they were in want.
Yes, it was a fearful necessity" and the
proud face paled again, and something
like shudder shook the stately figure
from head to foot. ''But it was neces-
sity; and why should she come here, of
all places, with her child. to reproach us?
Good heaven! No, no; it had to be-,