Feliciana sentinel. [volume] (St. Francisville, La.) 1877-1892, 1891-06-20
WHICH TOOK HIM?
Husband or Son-in-Law, the
Widow Must Have Her Piquet.

Mrs. Vincent, widowed and wealthy,
looked naughty and fierce.
1t was three o'clock in the afternoon,
and the sun took the liberty to intrudc
through the window into the library,
furnished in purple leather and walled
with books. which had had pretty
complete rest for the ten years that the
late Vincent had been in his grave.
Mrs. Vincent sat and glared.
Her dark, prominent and wrathfully-
astonishcd eyes had for their target q
young man. in whose bearing appeared
a singular mixture of Difference and de-
fiance.
lie, on his part, saw before him q
lady under fifty, but not far. The lips
were yet full and red, and her figure,
though ample, still retained agreeable
lines. If her hair was white, the black
eyebrows held their color and cmpha-
sized the air of command to which the
Roman contour of the nose most con-
tr tbuted.
"Wcn, ncver!' she cried, slapping
down pack of cards on the table
The man smiled slightly.
4 young man, with curly brown
hair, cheerful, blue eyes, up-twisted
mustache and firm china fresh,
alert, compact, healthy young man,
whose loose, elegant costume proved
that he understood how to achieve that
careless grace which SO charms women.
An intelligent young man with cynical
confidence in his smile.
He stood unfrightened, just the sort
of young man who should not be what
he was--secretary to n mature Cali
= s
ton and large means.
"Wcll, never!'' the lady exclaimed.
The young man spoke resolutely:
'No, Mrs. Vincent; 1 shall play
piquct with you no more. Piquet is a
good enough game, and am not avcrsc
to it in reason. But object to piquct
in the forenoon, in the afternoon, and
in the evening. six days in the week.
/ confess I'm tired of piquet."
I'm that case, and because of your in
science" said Mrs. Vincent, with cold
dclibcration, you may consider your
self discharged, Mr.. Middles.''
Very well, ma'am." And he turned
toward the door.
Mr.. Middles!'
He halted, his hand on the portiere,
and faced about.
She placed her glasses on her modi-
fled Roman nose, viewed him steadily,
and. toying with the cards, inquired:
"Would an increase of salary be any
induccmcnt, sir?"
NO"
"Then go!'
He bowed and disappeared.
lie hand sought the bell. Jcames, in
livery. both imported from London, re-
sponded.
"Hogrins, Mr.. Middles is in the hall.
Say to him that l wish to see him."
The secretary returned, ovcrcoat on
arm, hat in hand.
Mrs. Vincent threw herself back in
her chair, and clasping her plump,
white hands above her head, said, in
the conciliatory tone of the negotiator:
"Mr. Middles, let us not act hastily.
acknowledge thatI cannot we'll spare
you. Next to myself you are the best
piquct- p layer this side of New York"
Il know it. Mrs Vincent. Indeed,
play better than you"
"You do not!''
II do
His frozen calmn ess cowcd her
There was feeling in her words that
followed:
You loved my husband, did you
not?'
81 did. He was a father to me.
owe my education to him, and--and-''
"All that you are"
(Which is not much, Mrs. Vincent
"TIe was your benefactor, and you
loved him, yet you refuse so little n
thing as to play piquet with your bene-
factors widow"
II do. Gratitude has its limits
Evidently. You will not humor an
old womans weakness and tighten the
burden of her loneiincss?"
Il will not. Besides it is not n weak
ness, but n disease, this insanity for
piquet. Moreover, you arc not old. On
the contrary, Mrs. Vincent, you are
still charming woman, and by with
drawing yourself from the world, and
giving yourself over to cards, you
wrong yourself. Worse than that, you
fail in your duty to your daughter. who
has the life of 4 nun"
That is nothing to you, sir!'
True"
Again he moved toward the door.
"Will nothing" asked the lady, in
alarm, ''induce you to sit down to n
game with me-just onc?
Nothing that 55eu would give, Mrs.