The Lebanon express. (Lebanon, Linn County, Or.) 1887-1898, 1890-01-17
AT ARROMANCHES.
The Untold, Hopeless Love of the
Poor Fisher-Girl.

DdytuA W ATTOHdHpHco III plVopVu
time! And, If one does not soon become
tired Ii is quite as pleasant when one
walks. There are apple blossoms all
the way, and bright fresh grass by the
roadside. For long time, when one
looks back over the fiat country, the
three tall spires OF .he cathedral at
Bayeux loom up above the apple bios
SONS and every thing else; but ono
loses sight Of them at last, and thinks
only OF the great drifts Of apple bios
SONS which fill the air with sweetness.
BY and by the Chateau de Tracy is seen,
half hidden by the trees about it; and
soon after the road turns, and there is
the single long street of Arromanches
before one on the edge Of the cliff, and in
front the wide, curying bay. Perhaps 1t
is August when one goes to Arromanches,
and in that case he will see red apples
cleaning and twinkling among the
leaves, and the gardens at Arromanches
will be ablaze with tall spikes Of holly
hook or lurid with gigantic sunfowers.
II one likes hollyhocks and sunhowers
better than apple blossoms, 1t is better
to see Arromanches in August. But the
people who 60 to Arromanches and lodge
at the Auberge Chretien 60 there for
the sake OF the bathing and not for apple
blossoms or sunfower disks. They are
mostly people from the larger Norman
towns, with a sprinkling of English
tourists, and now and then stray Amer
ican or two.
Wilfred Avery is one Of these last.
Brought here by some random freak OF
travel, he has found the quiet life at the
Auberge Chretien and on the silvery
plqge below the cliff so agreeable that he
has stayed here week after week, with
the time of his departure still unde-
termined. Scattered about on the firm
white sands are many little red and white
tents, in the shade OF which people sit
through long summer hours reading,
talking with each other, or, what is far
more profitable to contemplative mind,
watching the sea. Wilfred does not find
the time hanging heavily on his hands
down here on the pldge. He knows every
one about him, and as he is fairly good
looking, with cheerful, agreeable man
ners, he is general favorite and well
come guest under any or all of the red
and white tents. The fishermen like to
have him stop and chat with them while
they are busy about their boats, and the
bare-legged fisher girls, crossing the
sands with their nets across their shoul-
ders, often exchange a CHEEKY bon jour
with him when they see him under the
shade of his tent. He is simple
natured, generous SOUL who would suf-
fer torture himself rather than pain any
one else by word or deed. Every day,
nearly, he writes letter there in
his tent to his faro II tidncee in
America; and when the year of wait
ing is over in which he has promised
not to see her, to crafty some absurd
whim of her mothers, he will return to
America and they will be married in
due time. Meanwhile he is amusing him
self in finding out all sorts of attract
i've hooks and corners of travel, with
the intention Of bringing Eleanor to
them next year Eleanor will be sure
TO like Arromanches, he thinks, as he
PAGES the hard white sands or rambles
along the cliff. Sometimes at evening
he leaves the Auberge Chretien for a
chat with the fishermen sitting about on
their updrawn boats, just out of the
reach Of the tide. The lights on the
cliff above twinkle cheerfully, and
through the line Of spars and tangled
rigging the sea fashes white in the
moonlight. The young man takes a
placid enjoyment in it all-the gleam-
ing sea, the twinkling lights, the gossip
ing talk OF the fisherfolk. He knows by
this time the family history of half the
lwellers in Arromanches. He knows
why Jeanne Vauvray will not marry
sither Simon Cauchon or his brother
Alphonse, both of whom have been in
love with her from their childhood; why
Louis Dumont goes every Sunday to
3ernay: how much money Henri Ser
nent made from his fish the year before;
and just what fish the care prefers for
his Friday dinners. At least, if he
does not know all these things, it is not
for want of hearing about them often.
And he is communicative in his turn,
and tells them much about America and
of the many places he has visited in his
travels, to all of which they listen in
tently, but with an inward convic-
tion that Arromanches is better to live
in than any one of those strange foreign
places, But of Eleanor he says nothing.
Perhaps it might have been we'll to
have told them of her also.
One day he loses a little keepsake
that she gave hima small gold eye
glass hook --and all the youngsters in