Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1890-03-01
THE MISSING BRIDE.

Up on the hill, Ia a quaint, beautiful.
lppcly little house, lived young Madame
Vinton, quite alone save for her ser.
wants. The village lay below her like
a toy town out of a chip box from Hol,
%land-little white houses all alike, q
little white church with a pointed stee.
pie, aud rows of poplar trees, stiff and
black along the streets.
The stone house, with It's painted
glass windows and Gothic doorway,
looked quite like a miniature castle
from below. But il had not taken the
fancy of the residents of Poplartown.
II seemed to them queer and lonely.
and since its builder and owner died,
the executors had found no one to buy
or lease it, until young Madame Vim
ton, in her velvet dress, drove up to TIE
gate one morning, and interviewed the
care-taker.
1t was hers very soon after that. and
she lived, as We have said, alone with
her servants.
For guardians, she had two great
Siberian blood-hounds, fierce as dogs
could be to all but her. 1t was well
known that, at a word from her, they
would tear any man TO pieces; and they
lay across the outer door at night. She
needed no other protection.
Young, beautiful, and q widow, charm.
ing in her manners, no wonder that the
gentlemen admired her. But the ladies
fought shy Of her. They made no
calls. They looked solemnly away as
they passed her in the street. When
she came to church, and sat in the pew
she had hired, no one took any heed OF
her presence. The clergyman called,
as in duty bound, and took his wife
with him. Unhappily, they found the
pretty Frenchwoman smoking a cigar.
cite. That sealed her doom. She
was sent TO Coventry by all the respect
able society of Poplartown-the ladies'
society. But, somehow, through her
landlord, a cosmopolitan bachelor,
gentlemen were introduced. II was
not her fault that these only came, and
that they sang her praises aud defend
ell her against the hints of their female
relatives. She did nothing but adhere
TO the habits of her country. Poplar
town had been uncourteous TO her, not
she 10 it. Her maid sat in the window
sewing when she had gentlemen call
ers. She never received them alone.
"a cruel thing of you women" said
Squire Gilbert to his mother-''a cruel
thing to be so hard on Madame VIM
ton. What does she do but dare to be
beautiful ! suppose God made her so,
as he made TIE live Misses Chesney,
who hate her SO bitterly ugly ~
witches. What do yon know against
her, motherp"
Il know nothing, child. said Mrs.
Gilbert-"nothing but that no ladies go
TO see her"
"Why don't they, then?" said the
squire.
There must be some reason" said
the old lady; Mrs. Praygood saw a
cigar on the table near her. Ladies
don't smoke"
English ladies do not" replied the
squire. But perhaps she does not
know that. Why don't you call and
tell herp"
My dear, / never call anywhere
replied the old lady. The young peo-
Pile come TO see me. | don't say any
thing against Madame Vinton. / hope
she's all right; indeed | do"
But she resisted the ~entreaties of her
son to drive with him, to call On
Madame Vinton, nevertheless; and so
one day the squire went alone.
He was n handsome, active, elegant
man, but he was no longer a young
one. At twenty he had been 10 love,
but his weetheart died. He had ever
since remained true to her memory.
At ~forty-cight he lived with his mother
still, her only son. He had. perhaps
for this reason, something of the frank
and careless manners of q boy. He
had not hardened, as most men do be-
fore his age.
The squire called on Madame Vim.
ton from a spirit Of chivalry-so he
thought, at least; but he left the door
with flushed checks and sparkling eyes,
and he called again because he could
not keep away. Soon, to his mothers
consternatioan, rumor reached heI
that he went to Madame Vinton's house
every day; and at last she, as well as
| all Poplartown, knew the truth. Her
son was engaged to be married to the
French lady, with whom he was desper.
ately in love.
The five Misses Chesney shrieked In
chorus when they heard 1t. All the
other manageable single ladies were
equally shocked; bat old Mrs. Gilbert
bore herself bravely.
my son." she said. Il give you
credit for being u man of sense.
know you wouldn't marry a person
who would disgrace our good name.
I'll 60 with you to see her once, and I'll
welcome her kindly. Nothing must
come between us, my dear-nothing."
And Mrs. Gilbert saw no cigarettes
near Madame Vinton's elbow, when
she called, and could find no fault with
her manner She returned home great
ly comforted, and set herself to put
down the talk in Poplartown, to the
great disgust Of her neighbours, who
had hoped to be entertained with the
items Of q family quarrel.
1t was September when the news
first reached Mrs. Gilbert's ears. Be-
fore Christmas day her son would be
married. She tried to feel happy over
II, but In reality her heart was very
heavy. An unde6nable presentiment
Of impending trouble filled her with
sadness. 1t could not be the coming
of this handsome wife, with her sweet,
courteous, loving manner, she thought.
She was old. Adaughter would be an
addition to her home. Yet she tossed
YEARLY on her pillow at night-she
who had always slept SO we'll; and
could not read or sew as she had done.
Somehow she felt all was not well. and
never could be- agsin IN this world for
her.
In spite of this, she took her pearls
from the worn case Of blue velvet, in
which they had been hidden for years,
and sent them in . shimmering nest OF
white satin, to MY Daughter soon to
be," who ahswered with loving thanks.
The wedding-day was fixed. Tie
wedding guests, old friends OF Mrs.
Gilbert, who said to each other that