The morning call., 1891-12-13

The old grudge seems like second nature to
US, and seldom breaks out into an open
quarrel.
Perhaps I ought to say, however, that l
am not in position to take what my Uncle
Blaise Barraud calls an impartial view OF
tile matter, for have lived in Hastiere-par-
Della all my life, and have but little learning
10 heIp ne to judge things. have spent
my time chiefly in learning my handlcraft
Of stoue-cUtting, and when my days work
is over I am too tired for reading anything
besides the newspaper. Certainly, what |
read there doesn't prove that we and our
quarrel are worse than the rest of the world
At the time of which | am going 70 tell l
worked as foreman in old Nicolas Iaelman's
stone-yard and earned really good wages
irdeed, | should have been a well-tO-do
young fellOW-as things went in Hastlere-
but there were my ola mother and two little
sisters to be provided for, and as | was the
only unmarried son of the family the
heaviest share Of the burden fell on my
shoulders oil which | didn't complain; vet
1t hampered me and kept me from saving,
and from any notion of looking for wife,
even if l had wished to marry, which l
hadn't exactly.
l felt what dead weight my circum-
stances Were to me- when old Iaelman made
up his mind to leave off work and sell his
business 1t seemed quite natural that
after being his manager for three years l
should succeed him, and l was the first he
spoke to about his intentions.
q" 'Iain't only my age, lad, that pushes ME
TO it," he said. IF didn't want the money
l wouldn't think of givin' in just yet. But
there's my 5On-in-law at Liege, he's in what
you may call a bit Of hobble, and some
cash down l must have down for him, more
than l can find just now, unless | either sell
the yard or get into hObble myself"
Mon Dieu, Nicolas" l cried. If you
want to sell for cash down Pm not your
man, worse luck. l could only manage in
stallments, with quite little I'm to start
with"
- Installments wont do, my boy" he re-
Piled, slowly. " Of course, can guess you
haven't saved much, but Ia let You have it
cheap. I'd give it to you for 5000 francs"
That's out of the question tor me, !" | said +:
Il could no more lind three thousand francs
than could make the liver flow back up to
Givet."
"Perhaps you couldn't yourself" Nicolas
said; then he added, after pause, 'bu. |
was thinking Of BIaise Berraud; he's your
mothers own brother; wouldn't he help
you? He"
81 wouldn't ask him." l interrupted:
land if did it would be no use"
WHY, lad" asked Nicolas, what have
you against him? Is there any quarrel be-
tween you?"
Ne" said, shortly, there's no quar-
rel. But for all that, 1 wont ask for help
from him" Then | turned quickly away
for my Uncle Blaise, who was far and away
the richest man in Hastiere, was sore sub
Ject with me, the more so because a few
months before, when he came back from
America after thirty years absence, had
thought, as Pere Nicolas thought, that he
would be sure TO help his only remaining
sister and her children. But 1 soon found
that the memory of the old quarrel, which
had driven him away from Hastiere, still
ranked In his mind; moreover that he
meant TO keep every sou OF the fortune he
had made out West for himself, or rather.
LOT his daughter Zoe Besides which he
never took to me, nor | to him, and had
more than once made up my mind never to
cross his threshold again, yet that was re-
solve | always broke-on account of MY
cousin Zoe.
l saw my cousin Zoe, though she was 81
entirely different from any other girl | had
ever known that | never felt on the same
level OF kinship with her as | did with nv
many other cousins. By her mother she
was Canadian, and she did not speak
French at all as we speak 1t. Sometimes it
was hard TO understand what she meant.
still l liked her talk for its very strangeness.
l suppose, too, it was her Canadian blood
which made her so much more independent
than girls are IN our country, and so well
able to give her opinion on matters ahout
which women, as a rule, know little and
care le5s-and she had no stiffness in her
manner either, My mother called her for
ward, but think she was more wnmanIy
than many girls who make great show or
being prim. 1 do not know whether or no
she was pretty. She had long curved eve
lashes and large dark eyes, the likes of
which l have never seen before or since
Other girls eyes have a knack of telling
one more than their owners care to nut into
words-thatls, II you are sharp at reading
their glances-but ZOe's ewes were always a
puzzle to me. They looked at Won anita
straight and simple, and yet they told Won
nothing. never knew If she were pleased
or veXed with me. II she were sorry for me.
or II she were making fun uf me.
These may seem odd reasons for being
iond OF a girl, but loneliness Is fonuness and
has no reason. Something in her manner
to me always made me feel shy and awk-
ward to her, yet each time | left her |
lQnged to see her again and to have a chance
oil cutting better figure. / had got alto
grther mo foolish state Of mind about
her, Tor what was the use of POOR man
Ike me wasting his thoughts on a girl who
would have 100000 francs for o dowry?
Men OF nve-and-twenty, however. are not
alw Us wise; and then, you see there was
but one Zoe Barraud in all the wide world.
OF course, before my Uncle Blaise went
out to America-that means before | was
born-he had taken part in the fend be-
tween the two villages, as we all did: bur
when he came back he was very scornfuI
at the notion OF not being on sociable terms
with your neighbors across the water. He
said il was absolutely ridiculous and in
credible that the feeling should be encour-
aged
TO Zoe, naturally. it was all new and