Springfield globe-republic. (Springfield, Ohio) 1884-1887, 1886-08-22

DuI PERSUADED Ger 10 Aerp my secret
blush to say that appealed TO her meanest
instincts"
AS how"
You know the confectioners' at the
corner of the Rue Castiglione'"
No"
Don't you' How pity you, II is one
Of the best believe il IL the best con
feCtioner's in Paris used TO take Bouge
there every afternoon when we left the
Louvre Now. dear, | used to say, take
whatever you fancy ard the poor soul
used to reVel in eClairs and chOuN and
brooches, and meringues and red currant
syrup to an alarming extent"
How she must have missed you when
YOU left school, sari the colonel, laughing
He could not bring himself to be very
angry with his goddaughter for this folly
of hers: nor could he think very seriously
Of this interchange Of love letters with q
shabby genteel Frenchman. The whole
business seemed, at the first blush. too
foolish for grave consideration; and yet on
reflection Col Stukely told himself that il
was kind Of folly which might entail
considerable consequences Very disa-
greeable if the young man were a scamp;
and the circumstances favored that in
ference.
And do you mean to say, Oracle" ne
began, after pause, that you have en-
gagged yourself, in black and white, TO a
man of whose surroundings and anteced
ents you knew absolutely nothing'r
knew everything" she answered, in
dignantly. Victor told me his whole
history He Was thoroughly frank. He
confessed that be Ind only juSt enough to
live upon, poorly, and in poor quarter
His father had been ruined by the Mexican
war, having been tempted TO put all
his money into bonds. When his
father died, Victor came to Paris
TO study ar, in the hope Of becom-
ing a dist nguished painter, like Meis-
sonier or V dial II / would promise TO
marry him. he told me he should have
new incentive TO industry, perseverance,
patience-the holiest and purest incen-
tive"
That fetched you" said the colonel, and
you promised"
Not for months after | received that
letter. What very feeble person you
must think me, colonel"
Il think YOU an adorable little goose,
said her godfather"
Il don't think should have consented
to engage myself TO him." pursued Grace,
only one day missed him in the room
where he and had both been working"
still at your GuidOl'
"Oh no. Ihad gone into another room,
and was copying flower piece Victor
advised me to paint flowers and fruit ana
things-dcad nature, as he called them
rather than Italian MadOnnas. One day
he was missing, and the next time, and
the next had not seen him for week
felt sure that he must be i'll was very
unhappy about him; haunted by the I'M
age OF his poor pale face. At the end OF
week he wrote me, under cover 10 Mad
emoiselle Bouge, who brought me the
letter to my room, with a fearful counter
ance, and told me that Il might have
been the ruin Of her TO receive 1t, which
was sheer nonsense, rs even Madame Sar
tori's sharp eye coulG not read the inside
Of a thick envelope"
The letter told you he was dying, pre-
sumo" 4" said the colonel.
1t was only few lines scribbled with
pencil, and written from what he Thought
would be his death-hed IL was last
adieu; for he told me that he had no hope
| Of seeing me again"
You did not 20 to see him, hope. said
! the colonel, anXiously, not knowing TO
what compromising step the girl might
| have been tempted, in her ineXperience OF
| life
That would have been impossible. !
think might have persuaded that good
| old BOuge to ask for an evening out, ana
! to 20 and see him for me. But there was
| no address 10 his letter. There never had
been any address TO his letters"
"A curious gentleman to be ashamed TO
own where he lived" said the colonel
1T was only pardonable pride, poor
| fellow He knew that my people were
| rich, and he was ashamed to let me know
| how shabby a street he lived in. As II
that would make any difference to me-!
You answered the death-bed letter."
Yes, godfather" Grace answered,
| softly, hanging her pretty head, and con
| tributing few more tears 10 the watery
meadow.
And what kind of letter did you write,
my dearsr ask the colonel, gently.
Il am afraid 1t was very foolish one.
was so sorry for him, poor feilow-so sorry
| TO think of him being alone, dying, IN a
wretched lodging-and l begged him tC
! get well for my sake, and told him that
! would be true TO him in his poverty, and
| that IL he would be content 20 wait FOL
me TIL could win my fathers consent t.
our marriage, and be constant TO me, as
would be 70 him, perhaps for years,
would give him the promise that he had
| 30 often pleaded for in those beautiful
ietters."
Il am very glad you made the matter
contingent on your fathers consent, my
love" said the colonel, chserily. The
| business is not half SO bai as l thought
Was there anything more in your let
/ teri"
Only that II my father should refus'
| his consent 10 our engagement | woulc
| never marry any one else. 50 far at ieas
was my own mistress. l might be al
lowed TO marry him. loved my fathel
too well to be disobedient or rebellious
But pledged myself 10 be true to Victo
even in lifelong severance"
"Whew!" exclaimed the colonel a
pretty kettle of fish And is that why yoI
numerically snubbed young Colchester
the master Of the hounds, when we wer,
out ub-hunting the other morning.
Il am not aware that / snubbed Mr.
Colchester said Grace blushing furi
ously.
"Oh, but he was aware Of il. Yo'
! treated him shamefully! Such a mic
young fellow, too, and so particularly at
tentive to you-opening gates and max
ing way for you at fences, and lingering
by your side to talk when he ought L
have no eyes except for those yOunl
hounds of his. until at last you drove hin
away by sheer inciyility. When a man
lord OF the manor and master Of tn
bounds he hardly expects TO be treate'
like hat
Il have eothing TO do with Mr.. Colches
ter's expecta,?--s. D." answered Grace, toss
ing ND her head, 6G. with tears still in tn
sweet hazel eyes. at is cruel of you {