Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1891-09-24
"But yoltr hair Is not southern hdtr. II
Is fine northern gold"


Quils etaient beaux, les jours,
Les jours, les i-o-u-r-s
Rosalie loved a little French song
taught her by her father when she was a
child, a mere jingling ditty with sim
pie air, such as often takes hold of ones
memory and haunts it for days Its
short. crisp words and trimming rhvthm
suited well the banjo accompaniment
which she had arranged for it.
She was sitting on the old bench un-
der the mulberry tree singing this song
when the carriage which brought Mar
guerite Chenier Roosevelt to the mill
came in sight, "a little way down the
pocket" road.
Ma belle petite,
Qufls etaient beauX, les iours-
She trilled with her rich but rather
slender and childlike soprano voice, the
chords of the banjo blending we'll with
it. The mill gate was down, but the
water had not yet filled the raceway, and
only trickling sound came from the
messy forebay Colonel Chenier, as it
CHANGED, was not in his accustomed seat
under the mulberry tree, and Mrs
Chenier and Adelaide were in the mill.
When the carriage, a rather seedy cab
from the neighboring railroad village,
stopped, Rosalie caught her breath ex-
citedly, quitting short in the midst of
her song
A little sharpfaced, black eyed old lady
got briskly out through the door of the
vehicle and looked about her inquiring-
ly. The cabman deposited heavy trunk
and two large travelling bags on the
ground near by Rosalie stood gazing as
one scarcely able to credit her vision
Gould this wrinkled, sallow, thin little
old person be her aunt, Marguerite
Chenier Roosevelt?
Colonel Chenier came hobbling up and
set the matter at rest,
Dear sister, he cried, gathering the
newcomer into his strong arms and kiss
ing her withered cheek again and again
Rosalie was disenchanted This was
not the cold stately dame of which she
had been dreaming
Mrs. Chenier and Adelaide came forth
from the mill and the guest was given
warm welcome.
When Rosalie was presented the old
lady ran her sharp black eyes over the
girls lissome form, from head to foot
"You are very pretty, my DEAR" she
said, in soft, quavering tone, taking
both of Rosalie's hands between her
own You are the prettiest Chenier
ever saw
Rosalie smiled radiantly She was too
unsophisticated to doubt her aunt's sin
Cerity
$50 she is" exclaimed Colonel Chenier;
my little girl is a real beauty"
''Little girl" said Aunt Marguerite,
emphasizing the second word "little
girl, indeed She's young lady. She
ought to wear her dresses longer Come,
my dear, taking Rosalie's arm, 'show
me to my room, please; am very tired
Aunt Marguerite was Immediately
taken up into the cozy but scantily fur
nished room prepared for her The cab
man followed with her baggage. She
sank into chair by the window. whence
she could have fine view of the valley,
the foothills and the deeply notched
chains of blue mountains, lying one be-
yond another in almost parallel lines.
She leaned back and tipped her vinai-
grette against her nose, half closing her
eyes as she slowly inhaled the sharp con-
tents.
you don't look at all like your father
or your mother, my dear. she said to
Rosalie. Il wonder where you got those
eyes"
"Papa calls them 'feu do la Vendee,'"
responded Rosalie; 'and sometimes
when get little excited he cries out,
'Flammes du Midir or 'Eclair de la Pro
vencer"
"But your hair is not southern hair. It
is fine northern gold" The old lady, as
she spoke, reached forth thin hand and
toyed with the girls long, pale braids.
Her manner, her voice and the touch of
her fingers had in them that caressing
tenderness peculiar to the south. You
must be a strange sheep in the Chenier
fock," she continued.
"But not black Sheep" Rosalie
quickly responded, laughing lightly.
Aunt Marguerite smiled. Her kindly
old heart warmed to the sweet girl
They at once became far more than
friends. The childless woman had found
just what she had all her later years
been looking for. She felt as if she
must take Rosalie in her arms and cover
her face with kisses. What sunbeam
to take to the Roosevelt mansion, she
thought, What a ripple she would make
in Savannah social circles, this lovely
mountain niecel
Marguerite Chenier Roosevelt had for
many years nursed desire to find some
beautiful girl to adopt as her own Why
would not this gold haired Chenier, this
clear eyed, pink Tipped, sweet voiced
maid of the mill serve her turn? AL
though this thought arose in her mind
at once, Aunt Marguerite, being wise,
did not let fall even hint of it for sew
eral days She studied Rosalie with
great care, and found some new grace,
some fresh element of loveliness or some
rare phase of innocence developing in
her nature every day
One thing, however, grated harshly
upon her sense of the fitness Of things