Daily Yellowstone journal., 1889-04-25

of f%eeline, but no doubt he is all over
it by this time"
''Let US hope So" said Toinette,
sweetly, and kissed her good-by.
'Good-by, darling. BE SUR to ask
the colonel if he borrowed from you
when he built the river villa and the
city brown stone"
sIndeed, / will not"
Toinette was angry, but the ugly
suspicion had taken root.
IA retired officers half pay would
not keep up such an establishment as
this" she reflected. He had no in
h~eritance; | have heard him say 50.
He certainly has wealth, and spends
it royalty. Can il be minel How do
/ know / ! have anyl know nothing
Of my affairs. The few times / have
questioned him he evaded me. How
dare suspect himl Mrs. Etynge knows
nothing. Why should she be so bitter
against the man she re~jectedT"
The jar of the boat as it touched the
shore interrupted her unpleasant train
of thought.
"How detestablel No one expects
me. will have to walk home" was
the exclamation that rose 10 her lips.
She was thoroughly weary when
she reached her destination, and glad
TO escape to her room unnoticed. She
did not see her guardian until dinner,
and, absorbed in her own reflections,
t1@ did not observe that he was silent
and distract.
"Will you come with me into the
libraryi' he asked, as they were leav-
ing the dining room. II have news
of Importance 10 communicate"
Secretly wondering, she followed
him, and sank into a huge chair with
the apparent intention of going TO
sleep. His first words awakened her
thoroughly.
II received today a letter from your
father. He is in this country, He is
on his way here. Republics, he says,
r not less ~ungrateful than indiyid-
uals. His warfare against Napoleon
his long exile, have counted as moth
ing. The French republic has ignored
his claims as completely as the pre-
tensions of Chambord. He has quilted
France forever"
20, my fatherl When will he reach
herel" cried Toinette, excitedly.
The letter was delayed. He may
arrive tomorrow
They were both silent for a few
moments. Then Col. Graham rose
and stood before her.
''Toinette,n he began huskily, 'he
writes hat he will make his home in
New York that he will take you from
my home to his"
He paused abruptly, and waited, as
If for answer. None came.
He continued: 1T is twelve years
since he gave you into my charge. He
thought that he could return TO France
where he fondly dreamed that free
dom was at last triumphaut-partici-
pate in the organization Of the repub-
lie, and, in a few months, send for
you. How he has been disappointed
from day 10 day, and from year 10
year, ] leave him 10 tell you. Unjust
tell you that since you came into my
home you have been its sunshine. /
was a weary and disappointed man. /
had, after the manner of impetuous
youth, tested the quality of humanity,
and concluded it was all bad. You,
dear, innocent child, restored my
faith. Toinctte, / cannot let you go.
Surely / have the first claim now.
Your father is a stranger. His heart
always belonged TO France; mine is in
your keeping"
Toinette was strangely moved. you
forget" she faltered; ''consanguinity
has righSs"-
Il forget nothing" he said. make
my right greater than his. Marry
me, Toinette. All that am, all that
l have, is yours"
Ii was an unfortunate speech. Mrs.
Etynge's innuendoes REQUIRED to her
with renewed significance. She rose
and turned away from his pleading
eyes, his o~utstretched arms.
II thank you," she said softly, 'for
the honor you would confer, but il
cannot be" and she passed out of his
sight.
The next day her father came; a
worn and weary and shabby old man,
who responded absently 10 her cares.
es, and then seemed 10 forget her
while he poured out his thanks 10 Col.
Graham.
Toinette listened in amazement,
which soon changed TO humiliation and
distress. This broken spirited old man
in threadbare habiliments was the pa
triot hero Of her dreams, who was TO
return in triumph and take her away
to some grand chateau Of beautiful
France; and what was he sayingl
Graham, how can | ever thank
you-God knows | can never hope TO
repay you-for what you have done
for my child All that | can promise
is that she shall no longer be n tax on
your generosity. Ihave obtained work
as a translator; / will take her 10 New
York, aud there we will mako a home
humble enough, but peaceful. o
am sick of conflict"
''She has not been a tax" said Col.
Graham, earnestly. II am in hel
debt for happiness conferred-and-
and she is not accustomed TO poverty.
l thought ] was preparing her TO share
a brilliant destiny with you. I've
owe 1t 20 her not 10 let her suffer from
this mistake aud disappointment. ST.
Enenne, either leave her with mi OF
let me settle part Of my superabun.
dance on her. ! have no ties; il would
only be anticipating. What / have
will be hers at my death, anyway