The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1885-06-17

AAidN SEtG1tSS WAS not 81
much from having 10 give up the hope
of being Johns wife, as from the cans,
that compelled her TO take that step.
could only hope, and say a word now
and then 10 encourage John 10 hope
also.
One day, while snatehing a haSty
lunch. | was informed that | WAS. want.
ed at once. l found respectable ser.
want waiting for me-
Please to come to my mistress al
once, sir" said she. She is taken very
Ill, all of q sudden"
Where does she liye:@ | asked. The
servant named street within a short
distance, and III few minutes | was a,
the house.
1t was in that description of street
which we term espectable-dull. quiet,
and espectable-Small houses on each
side, letting at low rents; rents. most
likely. decreasing as an old tenant left
and new tenant came in; the sort OF a
place where the falling gentleman and
the rising clerk or workman meet III
their downward and upward course. On
our way | asked the servant what had
happened to her mistress.
i found her sitting in her chair, sir
looking so wild and talking such gibbeT-
lsh, that | came for YOU as fast as |
could"
She led the way to a sitting-room
Mistress was in there when | left; will
you please 60 in, SIR"
l went in, but no mistress was visible
l saw with quick glance that the room
was prettily urnished-many little fem
mime knick-knaeks. lying about. Hang
ing TO an easel near the window We're
two dead birds. goldfnch and a bull
finch, and on the easel stood China
plate. painted with a faithful repre-
sentation of the models.
Deeayed gentlefolks.' | said to my
self. as the servants 5 voice, calling me
from above, put an end to all further
speculations. There was evident alarm
III the girls accents; so | FASTENED up
stairs, and just inside the door of bed
room saw woman lying on the floor
either dead or insenSible.
With the servants assistance l lifted
her up and placed her on the bed; then
proceeded to ascertain what was the
matter. 1t needed, alas! very little pro-
feSSional skill to determine the prim-
airy cause of her illness.
/ had before me one of those sad cases.
unfortunately becoming more and more
common, of drunkenness in one whose
education and station in life should
have raised her far above such vice.
There was no doubt about it. Even if
the odOr of the woman S breath had not
told me the truth. | had seen too many
drunken women in nay time to be de-
ceived. | could do little to relieve her,
then; and after assuring the frightened
servant that her mistress was in no dan
ger, | placed her comfortably on the
bed, and gave the girl instructions to
loosen her clothes. As she did so look
ed with pity and some curiosity on the
unhappy woman.
She was lady, evidently-so far as
the common sense of the word reaches
-delicately nurtured and well dressed.
Her features were pleasing, regular and
refined, yet. in spite of all this. she lay
here a victim to the same vice that
urges the brutal collier TO pound his
wife to death, and causes the starving
char-woman TO overlie her Wretcned
baby.
l did not like to expose her weakness
to her own servant, so promised to send
round some medicine, and to look in
again in the evening.
As | stood with the door half open.
and turned to give the servant some
last instructions, a girl passed by me
hastily, not even seeming aware of my
presence. Before | had time to speak.
or even to look at her. she had thrown
herself on her knees beside the bed and
was weeping bitterly over the unfortu-
nate woman. Her face as she kneeled
was hidden from me, but | could see
her hair was black, and something in
the turn of her graceful figure struck
me as being familiar.
'Oh, my, poor mammal my poor
mammal she sobbed out. What shall
| do?-again, againl Oh. poor mammal"
I Il
be alarmed at your mothers illness: she
Will soon recover"
The girl rose on hearing my voice.
She turned round quickly and looked at
me. Lo and behold she was our long
lost Fleurette,
Fleurette-and, as | could see. even
through her sorrow, as beautiful as
everl | advanced with OutStretched
hands; but the girl drew herself up and
waved me aside with the dignity of "a
diminutive empress.
And so, as you threatened. you have
inTuded upon my privacy. Col will
never speak to you again"
Miss DorvauX." | answered almost
as angry as herself, your servant will
tell you how | happen to be here, and
you will see it is from no wish to in
trude. | am going now, but shall re-
lui II " Stt my patient llllS evening.
when | hope, for the sake of old days,
you Will give me few minutes con-
versation."
Then, as Fleurette returned weeping
to her mother, departed, revolving
many things in my mind, as the writer's
say.
had found Fleurette at last. Actu-
ally living within a stone 's-thrOw of my
doOrl Perhaps she had lived there ever
since she left Dalebury. Now having
found her, what was / to do with her?
/ guessed that had also fathomed her
mystery. You see. it was only a com
mOnplace. vulgar little mystery after
ala mothers drunkenness the sum-
total of it. Yet. when | thought of the
girl giving up her love and bright pros
poets for the sake of keeping her moth
er's vice a secret; most likely never
complaining of the sacrifice: wearing to
the outer world bright face that hid
heart-it seemed to me that our little
Fleurette was something very near a
heroine. after all.
My first idea was TO telegraph to John
and tell him where to find her; but up
on consideration | thought it better to
wait until after our interview in the
evening.
found Fleurette alone. She was
very pale, very sad, very subdued-very
different. indeed, from the angry young
woman who had walked into the river
three years ago. or the unjust tyTant
who had ordered me from her presence
that afternoon. NV first inquiry was
after her mother. Poor Eleurette color
ed as she told me that lady was now al
most convalescent. and she did not
think | need trouble to see her again
Then she held out her hand. and as
took it said:
"Please forgive me for my unjust
words to-day; but I,was so yexed
scarcely knew what ! said"
I'VE are always fOrgiving each other
| Fleurette. Brothers unto seventy time:
seven-why not sisters alsO?"
Fleurette smiled sadly and hopelessly
TEL me, Fleurette." | said. gently
as sat down beside her, was this ths
cause?"
She nodded her pretty head.
"Tell me all about it. How long has
it been going on? can be as secret a:
/ you"
And then Fleurette told me. I vii
| not give her words. They were too Low
| ing. too lenient, and ever framing af
| fectionate excuses. 1t was a piteoui
/ little tale. even as she told it-a tale d
/ nope growing stronger every DAY, I'll
1 in one hour it was crushed. as fiowe
is crushed under foot. Then came peni
tence, contrition, shame, and the eve
recurring VOWS of amendment. An'
with them hope sprung afresh an,
! bloomed for awhile-only to be Gu
down as ruthlessly as before. And s.
ON for years, ever the same weary round
and although she told me not. ever tn
same loving care, the same jealous re
| solve to shield her mothers sin from
| the vulgar gaze. 1t was hard burdel
| for girl TO bear. For this she gave u
the hope of being Johns wife. Sh
| would not leave her mother to perish
and would not injure John. as sh
| shrewdly feared might be the case i
she subjected him to the scandal of hay