The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1891-09-02

they walked on.
After following for about mile the foot
path along the cliffs, they turned inland
and crossing the plateau of grass anG
thyme, came upon open fields, where al
the summer the yellow colza had beer
growing. Presently they approached the
shadow Of fir woods. A modest gate
opened to narrow avenue winding through
the trees, and following this avenue fol
some distance they came in sight of the
old chateau which for many generation
had been the dwelling o. he family.
1t was an old-fashioned house, with q
grand old porch and terrace facing the
south, and surrounded on every side by
woodland and belts of pasture. The garden
in front of it was arranged in terraces and
shady walks, and behind it were several
orchards connected with the home farm.
Seen in the subdued light Of that autumnal
day the place looked somewhat forlorn and
little neglected.; for the Chevalier de
Gavr olles, though of old descent, was not
3 rich man, and found it necessary for
many reasons to economize his income.
One gardener, with occasional assistance
from Houzel, the forester, had to keep
| the fower-beds and parterres in decent
order; one old man servant or butler, in
addition to the serving maids, had to
Supelintend matters within the house.
A certain picturesqueness was added to
the chateau by peacock in full plumage,
who was strutting on the terrace and
spreading his irised tail in the rosy sunset
light. AS they approached, Blanche left
| her fathers side and ran toward the Bird
which greeted her with its harsh discord-
| ant cry.
Poor Blanche!" he muttered; "she is so
happy now!"
He sat down on the terrace and lighted
acigar. His thoughts were travelling back
to the day when his beloved wife had
died, leaving him lonely widower, with
that one child. Since then Blanche had
been the Joy and comfort of his life, and
they had dwelt together in solitude, seeing
little or no society, and seldom quitting
their country home. A Astudent-almost a
book-worm-he hal belied all the tradi-
tions of his house by declining at the very
outset a military career, for which he had
neither taste nor inclination. He had
held commission during his youth and
seen some active service abroad; but when
the empire came he had left the army,
married and led The life Of quiet country
gentleman.
Father Andre came according to appoint
ment, and the three dined together, waited
On by old Hubert. the butler. who was clad
in the faded livery of the family. More
than once during the repast the talk turned
upon the central topic of public interest;
had occasion to reiterate his befligerent
t7 sentiments, en- 3, tG ths huge ssl.ga fsd q !
the dishes in the excitement of his cage.
sympathy. At last Blanche left the table,
Hubert retired and thesswo gentlemen were
LETT a!oN5 tvsf their coffee. .
For some minutes they talked on gen.
eral matters: then, after an uneasy glance
at the closed door, the Chevalier said:
II wished to speak to you, Father An
Dire, on subject which concerns the hap
piness of my dear daughter"
"Ah!"
The priests eyes sparkled, and he pursed
his lips knowingly.
Blanche, as you know, Is now nearly
eighteen. Should anything happen to me
she would be alone in the world.
~The fact is, Father Andre, that can
not quite acquit myself Of sel6shness and
want of patriotism at moment so threat
ening to the liberties Of my dear country.
have hesitated for long time, but now
my mind is made up. I have not drawn
sword for over twenty years, but last
night wrote to the administration, Offer
ing my services as an old officer and a
volunteer"
An impulsive bravo" was on Father
Andres lips, but he checked himself, and
assumed look Of extreme concern and
sympathy.
IEut Mademoiselle Blanche2 Does she
know? Have you told her?"
The Chevalier shook his head.
Unable to restrain his enthusiasm any
longer, Father Andre reached out his hand
and grasped that of his enta-tainer.
1T is noble determination! Mademoi-
selle Blanche will offer no obstacles, am
sure"
Il do not think she will. returned the
ChevaIler, wien l have made my duty
plain to her; for though she is a child, shr
has rare courage. What have further to
say concerns her future. During my ab-
sence, and afterward, f-if anything
should happen while am away, she will
remain here at the chateau"
Certainly"
Mere Fevereau, the housekeeper, is her
old nurse, almost her foster In other; she
will never neglect her charge. For the rest
YOU, old friend, will look in from time to
time, to see that all goes we'll. Should she
be low-spirited and anxious, you will COM
fort her, will you not! And, should
never return"
Tears rose in his eyes; but conquerine
his emotion, and brushing the moisture
away with his hand, he proceeded:
Should never return, you will watch
over her and protect her. Her worldly
position will be secure-I have attended tc
all thst-and she will remain mistress ei
the chateau.
NAY, nay" cried the priest good-numor.
edly. 4The good God will bring You safely
back to medemoiSelle. You will kill q few
rascally Germans, and return like hero
when the war is done!"
But you promise to do as have asked
you? You accept the commission as
sacred trusti"
"As sacred trust, Chevalier."
Presently the prieut rose to go, for tn
evening was we'll advanced and LIE was al
early bird. Before departing he accomps
MED his host to the drawing-room, a larg
chamber furnished in the style Of Loui
Quatorze, and here they found Blanche al
alone, seated at the harmonium and sing
ing one of the sweet old hymns once 81
popular in Normandy. They entere
quietly and stood listening, When tn
hymn was finished the Cheva!ier bent owe
her aud kissed her fondly.
I shall tell her tonight, he whispered
to Father Andre as they parted at tn
porch.
He returned slowly to the drawing --oor
and found that his daughter had draw
| b Lclr tha haarr uindnu curfains and wa