St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1885-03-01

/
soon.'
''Who gave you thisa" asked Nine. Benoi
Of Jacquet, But Jacquet had fed like the
bird before the storm. She quickly opened
her daughters letter and found three pages
of excuses, ending with these words. 6 A
wifc's place is with her husband.r
The widow after reading these letters
| thought nothing of her daughters desertion.
nor her son-in laws treachery, nor the isoIa.
ton in which she found herself, nor the run-
| ture of the bonds which bound her to bel
family. Her mind reverted to the fact that
she had bought an in vitation, that that inyi.
| tation was in the name Of d. Outreyille. that
it was of no earthly use TO Nine. Benoit. and
that they would dance without her at the
Croix-Mangers fete.
! The Marquis dOutrevlle, confident of his
rights and Lucille's affection, had no fear OF
being pursued by his mother-in-law Their
! Journey TO Arrange was one of unalloyed
| pleasure. Lucille was as much Of marchion-
ess as it was possible for woman to be- She
was recognized as such at every place they
! stopped along journey which she had made
with her mother only few weeks before in
twenty-four hours, which it took her now three
weeks to make, and which appeared to her, by
| far, the shorter of the two. Their arrival at
Arrange was a fete day for all the good people
of the vicinity. She was adored by all her
vassals, who never tired of telling her how
| lonesome they had been without her. CASTOR
divided his time between his forges and his
bride. Ceine and her husband came to
spend their first vacation with them, and
were as happy as it was possible for mortals
to be.
Nine. Beuoit, of all our friends, was the
only one who found no means of happiness.
She became misanthrope and hated every
one. She no longer visited her creditors or
Nine. de Melesy. Baron Soubresac was
the only exception. She did not care par
ticularly about him, but when one feels
abandoned by the world the friendship of a
baron is not to be despised. She received
him kindly, and gradually his visits became
quite frequent. Some months after
the departure of Lucille, as Nine.
Benoit was at table with the
baron. after partaSing of her unstinted
hospitality, lie turned to her suddenly and
said: ''My good friend, am no longer good
for anything, but, such as am, it is still in
my power to give you what you have been
wanting all your life. Will you become a
baroness! do not offer you husband,
but name. At your age and with your at
fractions you deserve more, but can only
offer what l have. Something tells me that
l shall not trouble you long, and that nv old
age will soon draw to a close. Indeed, l
think we shall do well to act promptly if you
are willing to become Nine de Subresac.
l have many acquaintance in the Faubourg;
I am pretty well thought of, aud l have Just
about time enough left me to present YOU to
my friends. After my death they will con-
tinue to receive you for my sake. This done,
nothing will prevent you, if you are so in
clined, from choosing man who will be
your husband in reality and not in name
Consider my proposition, take week to
think the matter over; I am still good for
eight days. Write to your children, perhaps
the fear of this marriage will induce them to
yield to your wishes. AS for me, | shall die
easier having had the consolation of con-
tributing to your happiness"
Nine. Benoit was little prepared for such
overtures as these, but, being business
woman, an hour after the baron's departure
81 made VOW that l would never marry
again; but had, before that, made vow
to enter the Faubourg. l am certain this
time not to be beaten by my husbandl l
shall marry the baron; shall alter my will,
Next morning she sent her answer to the
baron, and began preparing for her wedding.
Never was love, sick maiden more in earn
est, for, it must be remem bered, that Nine
Benoit was about to marry the Faubourg and
not the man. slight indisposition on the
part of the baron warned her to lose no time.
She took wings and bestirred herself more
theoretically than she had when preparing
for her daughters marriage. Whilst the
baron was confined to his room, the affianced
bride hurried from the Marie to the notary,
and thence to the clergyman. She still found
time to see her beloved patient and to talk
with the doctor. The ceremony was ar
ranged for the 18th of October. On the 18th
the baron, who had been feeling better, COM
planned of heayiness in the head; the doc
tor suggested bleeding, but Nine. Be-
mott dssuaded him. The bleeding
was postponed, the patient felt better
and the lovers dined pleasantly together.
The day appointed for the wedding was all
that could be desired of an autumD day. The
weather was delightful and everything was
most suspicious. At 10 O'Clock in the morn
ing Nine. Benoit entered her celebrated car
rage. which had just been finished, and on
which the arms of Soubresac were emblaZ-
oned in place of those of d'Outrevile, and
which she eyed with an air of more that sat-
isfaction. Contrary TO general usage the
bride went for the groom; she soon reached
his apartments, bounded up the stairs to the
fourth story, with the Joy of an expectant
bride, and on reaching his door was con-
fronted by two servants with fearful eyes;
the baron had died suddenly only few min
utes beforel The poor bride experienced all
the sorrow that filed the heart Of Calypso
when she heard of the departure of Ulynes.
She wanted to see all that remained of the
baron she felt his cold hands, sat beside his
bed, and gazed with despairing but fearless
eyes upon the dead, and thought sadly of her
vanished hopes.
Nine Benoit paid the funeral expenses
and provided for the future care of the
baron's servants. 1T is my duty" she said
to herself, ''to pay his debts, for am / not
his widow in the eyes of Godr' She resolved
to go in mourning for him. She foil owed
his remains TO the cemetery The whole
attended the funeral. Whilst con-
the long line of carriages that
followed her own, she at last found relief in
tears. ALAS what an unfortunate woman
am! all these people would have danced at
my parties"'
Il x
Some time after these unfortunate events
Nine. Benoit received a letter from Lucille,
who, after complaining of her mothers long
neglect and 'unforgiving spirit, again pressed
her to return to Arrange, and as an extra in
lucement added that there was little
stranger waiting to give her a hearty vel
come.
''Oui-da,' exclaimed Nine. Benoit, ''what !
( this stranger were a little girli'
She turned to a large mirror over the |
mantle piece and continued: 81 am now |
II years Of age; in sixteen years my |
grandchild will be ready TO 90 into society. !
Ter parents will never leave Arrange; who, /
hen, viii conduct her into the Faubourg. II It |
$ not ]. The dear little thingi How love |
Ter already! ! shall then be only 50 years
Id. That's still young enough! To Arrange,