The Dillon tribune. [volume] (Dillon, Mont.) 1881-1941, 1886-03-13
myself was in Z hurry.

at his goal. The diligence reached st. Seu-
rim. and as l dismounted in front of a mis-
cradle looking little inn could scarcely re-
press q cry Of cxultation. Eustace Grant
was all but within my grasp.
/ entered the inn. where ! was received
Will, joyful faces. Guests were, no doubt.
few, and their visits far between. asked
if could have accommodation, and was as
s,red l could count upon the best out Oh
Paris At another time this srandiloquen5
assertion would have amused me- No"
nothing amused ne, AMI l cared fo; lloti-
ing SO long as could have food aud drink
and place to lay my lead until hs''' ac
con j.. shed my mission.
/ u ned, for was beginning to feel the
effects of the exhaustilg journey. Then
walked out and took stock CT my surround
IL
ST. Se,:rin was, as I had been informed,
= small decaying village. Soma Of tbs
houses were picturesque in their way, bn5
nv were half in ruins. There was
,Aurch, whose si2a was. OF course, utterIv
tlisproportionad to ths village There were
the shops necessary to supply the needs o.
the scunty population. SO far rs ! couio
soc, there was nothing else.
l struck my heel on liz, dusty. sandy path.
Was il for a life in such place as this that
Viola had left me: Had she given up al!
the comforts and luxuries with which l
wo,.4a have surrounded her to hide with tn,
part Of her fllghj III wretchel hoe
vi she could seq no one save rough
lis. men, peasants, and such like: 1t SO,
her love for Grant must be more thon NOR
tai to bring about such q sacrifice OF all
that woman, from the time Of Eve down.
ward, have been credited with longing
after These questions, and the only ans wer
could give to them. did not improve the
state OF my mind.
It was now growing dusk. I walked
hack to the little inn. went to my room,
and asked for lights and coffee. A broad
faced, broad -stoulderel Breton lass minis.
tered to my wants. ] entered into con-
versation with her, and in spite OF her
patois manegl to understand her:
asked about the place and the people.
She shrugged her shoulders All! but the
place was decay ing-going down-2one
down. Once, she had heard that people
could live there and make money; but that
was hundreds Of years ago. Now, every on,
was poor as poor could be. Parents could
not give their daughters dots-girls coul
young men went away. Tney went to
LOrient and became sailors. It was a
rare thing for girl to get married i'll st.
| Seurin.
Were there no visitors-no English. fn'
instance---stayin ing in the neighborhooaa NJ
| yes. There was One monsieur-ila was
! English. He lived at Pierre Boulay's farm
the farm just over the sea cliff yoadev;
| the house nearest to the sea.
| His name: All! she forgot those strangs
names. He was tall and handsom He had
been here, off and on, many months Hi
was hereto, but kind to poor people
| What lid he do with himself in this desc
late place: All! she knew not. True, YOUNG
Jean, cid Pierre's son, said that the gentle
man shut himself up for Tours and hours
writing. and the cure. who knew HIM, said
nc was a learned man.
Ii was he. Ny journey had not been i,
vain. l !onG,l to ask the g,rl il Il lady
lived with HIM, hut l forced the Quessi2'
back. When l hal finished with Eusiac
Grant could then think ct Viola.
Where was he to BIZ found: Was he a
the farm, now! Size thought no., She ha
not seen him for some days. Most days |.
came down the hill and walked along tn
coas.-far. far along the coast 1t mon sieu
wished to meet with him he would s,lrel
fin! hmm 1hare.
Yc. the coast was very fine. Sometime
artists came to paint 1t. Perhaps monster,
was an artist!
She glanced at me. Nodoubt my comm
hal created curiosity The question sn.
gestetl an excuse for my staying at sucl,
rlaca as st. Seurin.
Yes; she had guessed right. was a
, arti,t. hal come to draw pictures Of I'll
! coast. She seemed rleusel at havin
guessed the nature OF my occupation, III,
quickly left me, no doubt to make her Iii
covely known to all who were interested |
the matter Lneedel her no longer lu
. learned enough.
Fate sccnet shaping everything to N
hand. l ind learned that Grant was q
1 most within stones throw; that near
:. every day no took solitary walk along Il
! coast 1t was On tue coast, far away fro
fear Of Interruption that would al1'an,
: tor our meeting to take place. All | no
wished to guard against was II preniatu
discovery OF my presence
$ The next morning ! stepped out al
surveyed the scene OF action. Far. +
away us eye could SEQ was the strctcl,
smooth, ycllcw sand running from the ell
oi the glorious sea to tho tall rllgg
cliffs, in lreak Of which the tiny villa
r. nestled.
is climbed the hill. aud from the toy. loc
n ing across the valley. could see the SIN
N farmhouse in which the object Of my hat,
I lival. ldaled not 90 near to it. turn,
" and regained the sea coast, and walk
acng under tie cliff, pi:turins with sava
I rapture the m"n,ent When. utterly uas
~ pccting of cur cont;guity, Enstace CIR;
1t would tinl himself confronted by me, !,
II. called upon to reckon up the cost Of
he foul treaclery.
81 But that day, and other days. passed. wi
out my seeing Il sign Of him. spent r.a
of all tine hours of dayliglt on til. coz
cp Again and again Went through the SC,
CO which had pictured. stoAl few pa
Or from him on Il stretch of sand |
70 preached him and exuited in the vengea