The Washington critic., 1886-09-01
FAMILY PRIDE.

Nolssy; put he mad one falling, out OF
which, some years back, he was most
artfully beguiled. Geralds grand
weakness was family pride. He be-
longed to an aristocratic French fam
lily, the members of which babe adieu
to France about century ago with a
view to making home and wealth in
this country. A love of the old name
had been handed down from father to
son, and one of the boasts of the De
Voissys was that no pleban blood
ever mingled with theirs.
AT the same time Gerald had not
fortune enough to keep up the ideas of
grandeur which had been part of his
education. He and led Bohemian
sort of life, for both had adopted the
same profession-art. We worked in
a studio which was the most inartistic
locking place you ever saw, and our
rooms adioined each other on the
same floor. How / loved our old stu
dio, right at the top of u house, which
commands a good view of Gen 'al
Park.
IOlIi lliC WlHuOWS We tOulu WulCl
the autumn turning the trees into Grim
son and gold, or the delicate touch OF
spring tinting the foliage with thos
fresh, delicious shades which we love1
to reproduce on canvas. Then our
room was curious medley of half.
finished sketches, painting materials
old armor hanging on the walls, curl
ously.wrought fabrics strewn here an
L., I,n ,,Vt,, To-, -
bedaubed with patches of every pos.
sible color.
We were both making rapid success
In our profession. worked hard for
the sake of Alice, darling blue-eye |
girl, who had promised to make me
happy some day. Gerald worked from
pure ambition, for he had good expecta.
tions from his relations.
The kindest friend in the house was
the janitor's wife, good, respectable
woman, but in very reduced circum.
stances. She granted us many little
privileges, and was always willing to
render us any small service in her
power.
One morning our quiet life was in
terrupted by the arrival of black
edged letter for Gerald De Voissy,
which bore the French post-mark.
1t announced the death of an aunt.
He had not met the old lady for years;
so / did not expect to see him go into
paroxysms of grief on hearing of her
decease; but / was rather surprised to
see the look Of delight that overspread
his features as he read the last page of
the letter
"lIow can you be so heartess? p |
exclaimed, las to look pleased over
such a sad event 2"
"Well, it is an awful shame" re-
piled Gerald, looking patient, but, my
dear old boy. do congratulate me. !
am left heir to the greater portion of
my poor aunts fortune, somewhere
near $4,000 year, This letter is from
one of her nephews. He tells me my
aunt's generosity arose from the fact
that my mother was her favorite sister,
and not from any personal interest in
myself, as she never saw me since
was schOolboy."
II sincerely rejoice at your good for
tune, Gerald, and there is no fellow
who deserves it better than you do, |
replied, as grasped his hand and
shook it warmly,
"Well, then, let us celebrate the day
by taking holiday, he cried. "W,
will run down to Long Branch, ant
then you will have chance Of seeing
your flancee."
Such an offer was too tempting to be
refused, for | knew Alice and hel
parents were staying there. So VT
gladly closed our untidy studio aud pre-
pared to enjoy our day on the sands a
Long Branch.
AS we went down stairs we stopped q
few moments to speak to the good
souled Mrs. Robbins, the hOusekGepei
already alluded to, for Gerald wa
eager to acquaint her with his goOt
fortune. He had, however, scarcely
began to speak before the rustic of /
lady's dress was heard, and in an in
slant young girl brushed past him anC
threw her arms atGcCtionately rounC
Mrs. Robbins neck.
GLOW are you, dear mother" She
cried, in sweet, soft voice. 81 an
SO glad to come back to you"
The good old woman kissed her re
peatedly, while Gerald looked on il
admiration and surprise at the beauty
and grace of the young girl,
Perceiving his wonder, Mrs, Rob
bins said luughingly:
"You did not know, Mr.. De VoisBy
that had so fine young daughter.
thought would give you a start some
day. But 90 on and tell me of you
good fortune. | am impatient to heal
all about it.
] noticed that my friend usual self.
possession had deserted him; aut
though he spoke to Mrs. Robbins, hi
eyes were fixed on the young girl, anC
he prolonged the conversation pur
posely, fancied. When at last, II,
tore himself away, we had discovere,
that the young lady's name was Mag
gle, that she was living with her cousin
in the country, and had only come home
for few days.
"What u sweet girl" muterei
Gerald, "WhaI pity she is not o
good family las she not a wonder
fully sweet and beautiful EXPIRES
sion p
quite agreed with him, bat ban
tered him not Il little 10y reminding him
every time he alluded to Maggie, of biz
family pride, and the solemn vow hlJ
so often heard him make, thnt the gir
he loved must be his equal in birth auI
position.
We returned from Long Branch lat,
that evening and heard Maggies swec
voice slug ng an air from La Sonnam
bula" as We assembled the stairs
| noticed during the next few dly,
that Gerald found u great many reasons
for going to speak 10 Mira Robbins in
her apartments. Nothing could rv.
cecd his ingenuity In discovering smu
ilrns which needed her attention.
Then il suddenly had occurred ~ hi "A
. that be had heard, during the last few