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

Il don't think l shall. | feel like
man who, having been kept in twilight
all his life. is shown the sun for an
hour, and then again put back into twi-
light. He will forget the sun no more
than / shall forget Fleurette.'
She seemed 70 me such sweet girl"
l said, doubtfully,
She is perfect" said John. You
have seen nothing of her as vet. Wait
/ until you can fathom the depths of
thought and feeling under that bright
exterior. Then you will say was not
wrong in loving her as l did-as l do
even now"
Has any one else won her? Was that
! the reason she refused YOU"
| No one. She loves me. and me only"
What do you mean!' Iasked, greatly
surprised.
That evening when she told me firm
/ ly and decisiTely she would never mar
~ me-never could marry me-even
while | said mad. cruel words to her, l
saw love IN her fearful eyes. And when,
1 forgetting all, held her and kissed her
/ once. and once only, l felt her lips linger
/ on mine. Then she broke away and
ted; but l know such woman as Fleu-
| rette DOryaux would not suffer mans
| kiss unless she loved him. She wrote
me few lines the next day, telling me
! 1t could not be, begging me not even to
ask her why Since then she shuns me
and all is at an end; so please talk nc
| more about it."
Here was nice complication! Here
was knot - untiel John refused by
girl who loved himl l own | was glad
| to hear him assert his belief in her love
as, somehow, 1t panied me to think of
f1eurette sporting with mans heart.
| Although, as | told you. | determined
at first that she was not the right wife
for John, L had soon recanted, and
thought now how wonderfully she
would light UP the old house, and how
! happy John would be with such a bright
| little woman to greet him when he re-
/ turned OF an evening weary and tagged.
SO L resolved to see all | could of
tleurette; to study her, and if / found
her as good as John said she was, to use
my skill in untying the knot and
smoothing the strands of their lives. |
never doubted my ability to arrange the
| matter. L had always been an able
| family diplOmatist. Had | not, at New
Durham, brought Roaring Tom Mayne
back to his faithful but deserted wife,
and seen them begin life together again
| with courage and contentment? Had |
, not made those two old friends and
partners-whO for some time had been
! proving about with rev0lvers in their
/ pockets. hoping to get snap shot at
ly left them working a new claim to-
gether? Had | not stopped pretty Polly
| Smith from running away with that
| scamp Dick Long, who had two or three
| wives already somewhere up country?
In fact, so successful had | been in ar
ranging other peoples affairs, that it
| seemed, to an experienced hand like
| myself, an easy matter to place John
and Eleurette on proper footing.
DaleDuHY is q very little town. Its
| enemies even call it avillage; but boast
| ing as 1t does of a mayor and La corpora
| tiOn, 1t can afford to treat their sneers
with contempt. Different people may
| hold different opinions as to whether
life is pleasanter in large cities or small
towns; but at any rate, one advantage
offered by small place like Dalebury
is, that everybody knows everything
about every one else. You cannot hide
| farthing rushlight under a bushel. So.
if anybody has anything to keep secret,
don't let him pitch his tentin Dalebury.
With the universal knowledge of
ones neighbors affairs pervading the
| Dalebury atmosphere, it is not strange
that the first person | chose to ask hast
ened to give me all the information re-
specting the DOrvauX that Dalebury had
as yet been able to acquire. Mrs. Dor
vauX was a widow; not rich, but. it was
| supposed, fairly well off: she was great
| invalid, and rarely or never went out
Appearing to dislike society. she receiv-
ed no one, and scarcely any one knew
her. Those with whom she had been
brought in contact stated she was
| quiet, ladylike woman, who spoke very
little. 1t was not known whence they
had come-prObably France: but this
was only conjecture, and the absence of
certainty on this point rather distress
ed Dalebury. They kept only one ser
1 want N old N who h ad ~
them many year. Fleurette had made
many friends, and, it seemed, few, if
any. enemies. She did not go out much.
being devoted to her invalid mother:
but every one was glad of her company
when she chose to give it. Altogether,
Dalebury had nothing to say against the
new-comers-a fact speaking volumes
in their favor.
After this, as we were such near
neighbors, | used frequently to encount-
er Fleurette. and would often ioin her
and walk with her. Whether she knew
that Johns secret was mine | could not
say, but she met my friendly advances
halfway. The more l saw of her. the
more L wondered how l could have
thought her so lively and gay. What
ever she might seem to others, there
was, to me at least, a vein of thought
full sadness in the girls character-at
times fancied it even approached to
dependency; and | felt almost angry
with her, knowing that a turn of her
finger would bring one of the best fell
lows in England to her feet. We met
old John once or twice as we were walk
ing together Fleurette cast down her
long lashes and simply bowed.
of course you know my brother
wellg" l said.
Il have. often met him." answered
Fleurette calmly.
And you like him, hope?7
Il like DIR. Penn very much" she re-
Piled simply.
"He il the best fellow and the best
brother in the world" L said; and then
l told Fleurette what we had been to
each other as boys; how John had been
as careful of me as the mother who was
dead might have been-how we loved
each other now; and as ! spoke, | saw
blush on her clear brown cheek, and al
though she said nothing, her eyes when
they next met mine were wistful and
kind.
Il shall soon make it all right" l
thought as / noted her look, and resolv-
ed to argue the matter on the first tit
ting occasion.
There is little rivera tributary to
a large one-running through Dalebury.
Being too shallow for navigation, 1t Is
, not of much use except as water-sup-
. ply and for angling. Still, one who
, knows it can get boat with light
draught long way up. One afternoon.
thinking little exercise would do me
, good, procured such boat, and start
ed to row up as far as | could, and drift
leisurely back with the current. For
! some distance on one side of the stream
are rich fertile meadows; and the path
along the bank. through these meadows,
{ is fayorite walk with the Dalebury
, folk.
, As padded my boat up the stream,
, guiding its course by the old landmarks
/ which came fresh to my memory as
! though | were a boy yet-and startling
the water-ratS. descendants of those
) among whom John and made such
: havoc years ago. | saw in front of me
on the river-bank the dainty little figure
! of Ffeurette. AS / looked at her over
my shoulder. / could see she was walk
i ing slowly. with her head bent down, as
one in thought Thinking of John and
! her own folly. perhaps" | said. So pre-
occupied was she, that the sound of nv
! oars did not attract her attention until
/ was close TO her. Then, seeing who
. Il it was. she waited while rowed to the
: bank ON which she stood.
/ -Good-afternoon, Miss Dorvaux." /
said; If you will step into my boat, l
: will row you as far as the shadows viii
let me, and then back home"
: Fleurette hesitated.
i Thank You. Mr.. Penn: think / pre-
: fer strolling along the riyer-bank."
q In that case / shall tie my boat to
: this willow-stump. and. with your per-
: mission. walk with you. But you had
: far better come me. the boat is quite
' safe. and have not forgotten my cum
!; | ning."
Il am not afraid of that said the