Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1889-06-06

graceful fashion. Some answered her
cheerfully, others seemad constrained
and i'll at ease.
"You will wish me Joy for to-mor.
row, will you not?" she said, as shs
turned away at last. "To-morrow l
shall DO Nine,te Lcroux."
"No good comes OF using your new
name before it's your own" said the
surly voice OF Rose Michel. The girl
laughed brightly.
You were always one to croak,
Rose" she said. ''At all events there's
no fear of you ever committing that
mistake" The old maid looked sour
ly at the winsome face.
"A day may come when you will
wish yourself in my place" she cried,
with spiteful bitterness in her raised
and croaking voice. at is not mar
ried life that brings the greatest Joy,
though the young and foolish always
think it."
"Well, at all events, mean to try"
said the girl gaily. perhaps you
wouldn't mind being in my place for
once Rose Michel, and doing the
same" and without waiting for further
words she turned and went on her way
up the sunny village street.
She did not hear the muttcred curse
that followed her. She did not see
the vengeful expression on the wrinkl-
ed face and trembling lips; but Ninetta,
in all her fair and happy life, had
never made a foe so fierce, an enemy
so vindictive, as Rose Michel was
now.
Pierre Leroux was well-to-do mill
era man young and handsome, and
accounted great match in this quaint
little Norman town. His mill lay some
way out, SCI amidst fields and or
chards, and with an arm OF the river
winding through TO turn the great
wheel, whose sound was so sweet to
Nlnette's ear as it churned the foam
bells at her feet, and dashed the cool
shower of water over her sweet flushed
face.
She stood there now IN the hot sum-
mer noon, her lover by her side, her
eyes downcast, and her little hands
clasped round his arm, her fragile
girlish lovelineSs looking doubly fragile
and childish in contrast to the stalwart
frame and sunburnt face of the young
miller.
at pleases you, then? 1t is all as
you wish?" he was saying. The girls
face flushed, her shy eyes dropped
more shyly.
at is perfect-all," she said softly.
The whole place is beautiful"
"Not half good enough or beautiful
enough for thee" he said passionate
ly. ''My only wonder is that ever
thou couldst bring myself to love one
SO unworthy"
"In what way are you unworthy,
Pierre?"
Il am so rough, so coarse. / am
but one OF the people, and you we'll
born, beautiful as an angel True,
have some little learning, and a trick
of speech that served me well when
the storms of warfare and faction
threatened to disturb our little village;
for the rest"
"You are hero, Pierre, and
love you"
He drew her TO his heart with hasty
passion. He was delirious with the
sudden JOY those sweet bashful word 5
had brought to him. Never before
had she dropped the mask OF careless
ness. and let him see that for once she
could be loving. tender, grave. In
words he could not thank her. He
only clasped her in his arms that had
never hungered for living woman be-
fore, that were faithful, honest, true,
as few are, and kissed her with a
lovers passion and good mans rev.
erence.
"You are content, my beautiful"
he murmured at last.
"If only you will love me always, as
now" she answered, with the longing
that comes to every woman's heart,
when she knows that what is a lovers
privilege will soon be Il husband S
right.
"Do you doubt ftp"
Il shall not be your foolish giddy
little sweetheart then, in whom you
will never see fault or wrong she
whispered. ''Oh, Pierre, l am so
idultyy ~ Ncdh, SO Nilll7 aOu hO N.Y.
know
az do know. / know / love you
with every fault. as | have loved no
one with every virtue. l know, with
thirty years experience OF life that to
lose you would be worse than death a
thousand times, you are my souls
soul, my life's life.
The burning impetuous words half
awed, half gladdened the girls young
heart, even on the brink c! that close
and perfect happiness for which she
longed. To be so much 90 another
life. and she a thing so fragile, care
less, weak, almost terrified her now.
The hot sun cleaned on the mill
water at their feet, the pigeons plumed
their feathers on the gray stonework
Of the house, the sweet scent of dry
crushed grasses, and ripened fruit and
summer roses filed all the air. In
the dusky, shadowy nook where they
stood n silence and hush fell upon
them. With the rapture OF