Bridgeton pioneer., 1885-03-19

"Pardonv' grnnted Monsieur le Baron,
lazily putting at his pipe. perhaps Mistare
Lawrence will take also a grog of hot water
and schiedam?"
mo, thank you," cried the young fellow,
with perhaps unnecessary emphasis. lie
had no such especial despite for the bever-
age as his tone might have implied, but at
that particular moment, and in that particu-
lar presence, the idea looked altogether re-
pulsive. But the Baron de Roze took his
grog and smoked his pipe in comfort, undis-
turbed by romance. lie was sixty for one
thing, and for another tho lady was his
niece.
When he had finished his glass, and smok-
ed out his pipe, he arose, and gathered his
belongings together.
II am going to bed, Olivia" he said. 'You
had better 60 to bed also. Again, Mr.. Law
renee, am very much obliged to you. Do
you stay long in the Ardennes?
Until the end of the shooting season.
Lawrence answered. The end of January"
"Ahv said the Baron, 'that is good.
shall be glad to see you. l give but two bat
tues year, at the beginning of the season
and the close. You must come shoot with
me in the last week of January. Goodnight,
Mr.. Lawrence"
The young lady had arisen also, and held
out frank hand to him.
''Good night, Mr.. Lawrence. You leave
at five in the morning? We shall not meet
again tomorrow then. Goodnight"
When the young man took the maiden's
proffered hand in his, and looked into her
frank and innocent eyes, he was conscious
of vague, sweet thrill, unlike anything he
had before experienced. Olivia stood by
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then Lawrence ran to open the door, and
held it whilst the girl and her guardian pass
ed out, in the hope that he might see her
eyes again. He was not disappointed, for
she turned upon him with another bright
Goodnight" as she went by.
Arthur Lawrence went back to the de-
serted room, and, lighting a cigar, sat down
by the stove to think. The bedroom he had
resigned was Immediately over the room he
sat in, and he could hear her light feet trip
ping here and there on the beeSwaXed floor.
The young man experienced an absurd de-
light in these audible signs of the presence
of the chambers occupant The light foot
steps ceased and he walked out of the salon
and into the black street, where the wind
was blowing keener than ever, and the snow
was dancing with frantic violence. Hestood
bareheaded in the middle of the roadway,
and looked up toward the darkened window,
which he could not see. This was surely an
odd thing to do; was, perhaps, even trifle
ridiculous.
When he re-entered the house Joseph was
busy in arranging blankets, rugs, and pill
lows on the sofa.
THAT will do," said Lawrence. 'You
can pull my boots off. Call me at a quarter
to five in the morning, and make a row, if
you please. Goodnight"
CHAPTER III.
Tap, tap, tap. 1t is the woodpecker tap
ping the hollow oak tree. Louder. 1t is
groom beating a carpet. How he lays it on!
Louder yet. The mare is kicking the trap
to pieces Whoa, lass-steady, steady!
Louder yet. Joseph is knocking at the door,
and the injunction to make row last night
laid upon him is being admirably obeyed.
Through the chinks of the door stream little
rays from the lamp he carries, and he drops
Mr.. Lawrences shooting boots on the un-
clothed corridor with a noise which echoes
through the whole house.
"1s that you, Joseph?"
"Yes, monsieur. 1t is ~
''What hour is it?'
"a quarter to five."
storm lashes the window-panes as if the
rain were driven in sheets against them.
What is the good of going out shooting on
day like this? Let the king of the forest re-
main undisturbed. He will keep for anoth-
er day.
II suppose all those Belgian fellows will
turn out" says Arthur Lawrence to himself.
Il can't let an Englishman be beaten.'
Awakened now, the reluctant Lawrence
neryed himself for the plunge into the
cold darkness. What a morning! Morning?
Midnight, more likely. That amazing watch
of Joseph's had probably galloped six hours
in one. But whilst Lawrence thus sought
reasons for resting where he was, the delay
ed springs of his will seemed suddenly to
act without his knowledge, and he was
standing on the frozen floor. He padded
shiveringly about the room and found the
lamp and the matches, and then opening
the door on the windy vestibule, clawed in
his boots and pulled them on. Next he
sought the kitchen, and, casting off his up
per raiment, had great wash in icy water,
and was his own man again. During his
absence Fifne had been at work in the
salon. The stove was sending forth a crack
ling sound and sense of warmth, the wide
glass doors which gave upon the garden had
been opened for minute or two, the keen
air of the morning filled the room, not great
ly tempered as yet by the influence of the
stove, and the signs of the chambers occu-
patton for the night had been carried away.
The swinging lamp was in its place again,
and new snow-white cloth was on the
table.
What storm of rainv' said Lawrence,
chafing his hands at the stove.
"lt is not rain, monsieur" returned Fifine.
''lt is hail. 1t has broken several of the
windows"
''But not in the chamber Of mademoselle
l hope?"
mo, monsieur. On the other side of the
house. The wind blows from that side"
"Ah! p said the young fellow in his own
language. "Ilail, is it? Better than rain,
anyhow. I'll take a look at the weather."
He put on his cap and rushed outside.
The hail rushed through the darkness with
loud intermittent rustic, and hummed and
sang upon the frozen ground. He stood
sheltered by the house, and listened to the
storm until he heard music in it. Then he
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