The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1888-10-16
RAGS ~GoDMOTHER.
from the Waverly Magazine

bleak Atlantic coast. The sun sends
pale rays through broken masses of
cloud, and near the shore fragments
of ice toss about on the green waves.
Rae Parker, a slim, pretty shape in
one Of the windows of great mansion
overlooking the sea, is gazing out with
troubled eyes, and wondering that any
vessel should care to visit so inhospit-
able a shore. Rae is an Irish girl.
Upon the death of her parents a year
ago, she crossed the ocean at the invi-
tation of her godmother.
Madame Vidart is a little, wrinkled
old woman, with weird black eyes
sole mistress of the great lonely man
sion overlooking the sea, the grandeur
of which bewilders and Expresses Rae.
Madame's nephew is there this win
ter-a handsome, evil-looking man,
with white teeth and soft hands, and
the manners of a courtier. Rae is
alternately fascinated and repulsed by
him.
Of her ~godmother she is much
afraid-there is something so. uncanny
about the little shrivelled figure gor-
geously attired with the richest ma
terials.
Madame Vidart is determined to
marry her god-child to her nephew,
Felix Radly, who pays the girl persist
ent attention, and watches her and
gloats over her, until she is half wild
with fear and homesick longing for
her old peaceful life by the lovely
shore of Killarney.
Rae had a lover there. She quar-
relied with him over some trifing
matter, and he went to sea without
bidding her farewell. She has never
seen him since, but she thinks of him
continually-wishing wildly that he
might come and save her; for she feels
like some wild thing pursued by
hunters. 1o~s sE,a
She has no friends, no home but this
one of her godmother's. Even if she
could have her liberty, which she very
much doubts, she has no money to
pay her passage back to Ireland, and
America is so strange and unhome-
like to her.
There is nothing heroic about this
heroine of mine. She is only a gentle,
sweet tempered girl, and the wilful
old woman and unprincipled man are
more than a match for her.
1t is a dreary day. The wind is
shrieking and sobbing horribly all
around the house.
Madame, in a long black velvet
gown with a little shawl of maize
colored silk over her shoulders, is sit
ting in a crimson armchair before the
glowing fire in the CRATE. Radly is
in his chamber writing letters: and
Rae wishes that Madame also hal let
tiers to write-that would keep her
silent.
why shouldn't you marry Felix7"
she queries, incisively. "Are you SO
much different from other girls. He
is handsome and courtly, and, best of
all, loves you. That is what romantic
young ladies consider first, l believe"
And Madame gives vent to a little
cackling laugh, which causes a shiver
of dislike to pass over the girl at the
window.
The big black ship still works her
way in shore. She looks like a foreign
craft. Presently she passes out of
sight under the bluff, and Rae turns
from the window with a sigh.
"Of course you will marry him
ooner or later" persists Madame,
holding her wrinkled fingers to the
fire.
"Oh ! l do not think So" said Rae,
with another shiver. Il do not love
him."
Nonsense! Why do you sing his
songs? Why do you accept his
flowers? Why, you have one in your
hair this moment4"
Rae snatches the rose from her
pretty dark locks-a magnificent red
Jacqueminot-and throws it upon the
floor.
"He must have put it there while l
was at the piano." she exclaims indig-
nantly. 81 know nothing of it |"
Directly the door opens and Radly
himself enters, and graceful.
The red rose is directly in his way; he
stoops and smilingly transfers it to his
vest pocket. The sly old godmother
takes herself out of the room, and
Rae faces the man, fear and anger
stirring in her young heart. He smiles
at her provokingly.
care you quite sure that you do
not love me, Rae ?" he asks. az know
MANY q fair lady who does"