The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1885-09-05

nlgneF CLASS III ULlS llGulo COl 1el VI Sho
world whittier fate had drifted me.
Some months later [ was out in the park
| with the two children. 1t was mid-winter,
and there was snow enough for sledglng;
the children clothed from head to foot in
soft white fur and half buried in a polar
bear robe, were enjoying a ride in their
| swan shaped sleigh in white and silver,
with an arch of tinkling bells attached be-
fore, in the Russian fashion.
| While foOtman pushed the dainty little
vehicle | walked on one side talking to the
children and enjoying their babyish de-
light at the glistening frost and snow.
Roderic was trimming over with life
and excitement, and his restless little
hands, mittened in fur. clutched at every
low hanging icicle and glittering twig,
thereby letting in much of the cold breath
| of winter on his more composed sister. AS
we went briskly down the avenue a lady
richly dressed in black velvet and sable
met and stopped our little cavalcade. l
wondered who this grdnde dame could be
| who preferred lonely walk in the deserted
avenues to a drive in a luxurious carriage
with good company.
Il must pay my respects to the young
Duke" she said pleasantly.
She took Roderic's hand in hers and
looked at him long and intently, but not
with the expression that his rosy cheeks
| and bright blue eyes ought to have
awakened in the face of a woman.
Her look was moro as if she bore
| the innocent little fellow malice, and
when he pointed with delight to the
| lions heads in dead gold which fastened
her mantle, she drew away impatiently.
! After asking a few questions about Roder-
| ic's health and mental development, which
| was proud to answer with glowing praise,
she resumed her walk with a stiff adieu to
| me and not a word or look for little Amalie,
who, aided by her brother, threw most
| aifectionate kisses from her mittened fin
gers after the retreating figure.
felt a sudden unconquerable dislike to
this woman; she was tall, stately and
| beautiful in a statuesque, heartess way,
but | knew there was no more tenderness
| in her than there was blood in her velvety,
| cream-liIe complexion.
"Who is that LADY," l asked of the foot
man, when she was out of hearing.
"Mme. Elizabeth of Beroldstein, the
wife of the late Dukes younger brother
She would be Duchess now if it were not
for this little man"-gently touching Rod
cries curly hair. "They say her mind is
sometimes astray, and | believe the gos-
sips are right"
In feature, carriage and gesture she was
much more the high-born dame than was
| the amiable mother of the two children in
my charge, and it seemed afterwards to
me as if Nine Elizabeth protested silently
| against the fate that had not elevated her
to the place which she would have adorned
so we'll.
Has Nine. Elizabeth any children?" l
asked.
Eyes, two boys; but they can not be
| Dukes of Beroldstein unless misfortune
overtakes my young master which Heaven
forbid. Nine. Elizabeth can not become
| reCOnCiled to the fact that her husband is
only the second SON."
The dislike | had conceived for the new
conner only increased on nearer acquaint-
ance;' she had come for a visit of some
! weeks, perhaps months to the castle, and
| noticed that without exception the older
! servants of replace either spoke ill of her
or never mentioned her name.
''She is one Of the beautiful demons that
one hears about in the stories of my coun-
| try" remarked Frau Bremen with a shake
of her head. But one should not Judge
her too hastily; she lived all her youth in
lonely part of Russia, with no mother to
| guide her and under the influence of ia
ther who was none to saintly.'
Shortly after this my attention was taken
up by an event much more interesting to
me than the intrigues of the Won Berold-
stein family. Charlie, my lover-bless his
faithful heart had by dint of persistent
search obtained a position in a bank at
Trier, a trifling distance by rail from Be-
roldstein, and hal installed himself in that
town. The delightful knowledge of true
friend and protector being near at hand
gave the world a wonderful brightness for
me and even little Amalie began a baby at
tempt at repeating the simple home tunes
which from sheer lightness of heart 1 sang
in her ears all day.
To see each other again was happiness
enough for Charlie and me, and we found
no time during our brief meetings to mourn
that the prospect of our beginning life to-
gether was still in the dim future. l had a
most trustworthy messenger for my inuo-
cent communications to Charlie in the per-
son of an AlSatiOn nurSemaid, Lisette by
name, who declared herself ready and
anxious to serve me by every means in her
power. Her attachment dated from an &C.
cason when | had shielded her from Sc
we're reprimand. She had carelesslv al
lowed little Roderic to play with a dog
known to be fierce, and the little fellow
had been bitten just below the knee-only
slight wound, but enough perhaps to
cause the girls dismissal if discovered.
With a little fOrethOught | arranged to
dress and undress ROderic for a few days
so that the wound would not be noticed,
and neither Lisette nor | ever called at
tentiOu to the three little scars left on the
baby's round white leg. Lisette repaid
me by accounting most ingeniously for my
brief absences with Charlie.
Little Roderic had been slightly i'll with
some childish malady, and for few nights
| had slept beside his bed, until, at the ur-
gent request of Nine. Elizabeth, | went to
take undisturbed rest in my own room. |
wondered at her solicitude, for she was
usually sefshly Indifferent with respect
to the comfort of others. Rather unwil
lingly | resigned my care of Roderic to a
rOsy-faced country maiden who promised
to keep II vigilant eye on the young Duke.
In the early gray of the following morn
I l.. I Il