St. Landry democrat. (Opelousas, La.) 1878-1894, 1892-12-03


She had spoken hurriedly but gayly
until the man opened the door, and with
q nod she disappeared, the light falling
softly in parting CLEAN on the smooth
coils of her hair. Barnard noted it with
sort of pain. He had wished to ask
her when he could call the following day,
but she had offered him no chance fol
speech.
There was just enough of the cankeI
of doubt in him the next day to make
him irritably impatient to sec her again.
He went to the large brick house on
Washington Square rather early in the
afternoon for O call. Her coupe was
standing at the door as he approached,
and when he reached the stoop Mrs.
Anidon was descending the steps. She
bowed, smiled, paused for a moment when
she reached the sidewalk and made some
remark on the lovely day as she arranged
the last button of her glove. This was
all she could have been expected to do;
yet Barnard felt he had been relocated
some rods to the rear of the position
which he thought he had won for HIM
| self.
- am unfortunate" he said 81 had
hoped for some little time with you"
Il have got to make q dozen calls, "
she returned airily, as if this were the
nearest approach to sympathetic re-
mark which she could volunteer.
"Won't you name some day when
you will be at home to see me?" he
asked, as the footman opened the car
riage door.
Clam always at home Sunday after
noons," she said, suavely.
eyes; but you have a mob of callers
then" he retorted.
"They are all nice people," and Mrs.
Amidon arched her brows.
"Oh, of course But | would like SO
much if you would allow me to come
some time when you will be
alone" he urged, with a pleading look
in his eye.
She hesitated moment
"Come Monday afternoon at fve," she
said, and stepped into the coupe
Herepaircd to Washington Square at the
designated time, feeling that he might, Or
might not, put the question fraught with
such intense interest for him. 1t should
depend on how he found her. He would
not attempt to settle the po;sst independ-
emily Of that. His determination to
speech should be the outcome of the cir
cumStances.
As he entered the room where she was
sitting, warming sense of satisfaction
made him think he would speak before
he left her. The whole made such a
charming picture Mrs Apidon was
sitting in low, broad chair of pale blue
velvet. The exquisite lines of her figure
had never seemed more perfect. Her
dress was of heavy silk of lusterlcss black
with which some white fabric was com
bined, the severity of the gown softened
by profusion of lace.
She gave him her hand and motioned
him to Il seat. What a perfectly pos
scssed woman she was he Thought; every
turn, every movement, suggesting a
queenly serenity. All, if he could call
this glorious creature his.
''Do you Know what a comfortable
picture You make, you and your sur
roundingsI' he exclaimed, with the pas
sion Of an artist.
compliment. am poor rival to the cat
there as picture Of comfort"
She smiled slightly, as with a move
ment Of her foot she indicated yellow
plush basket in which was coiied an An
CORA whose soft sides pulsated to the most
bIissful con tent
Il should have said soothing" he has
tened to amend. THAT is what meant.
You breathe such a sense of reposc and
| cannot help thinking
what home would be with such sur
roundings and such a mistress. Could
man ask for more?'
''One would have to consider the man,
of course she made reply, slightly arch
ing her brows.
His gaze was bent upon her burningly,
his features set to seriousness. He bent
slightly toward her as he said, earnestly:
Il would ask no more and would feel |
that [ had won heaven more blessed |
than | could ever deserve Mrs. |
have you not seen what | have |
felt so long? am not worthy of you,
but
'Do you know" Mrs. Amidon, inter-
ruptcd, quietly, raising her hand a little,
Il should like to tell you little story.
Do you think you care to hear it,"
Il shall be charmed" said Barnard,
an attitude of attention.
Ten years ago." Mrs. Amidon began,
after moments pause, in softly modu-
lated but perfectly distinct tones, and
with her eyes fixed on the great log burn
ing in the fireplace, "a girl of seventeen
married a boy Of twenty. They loved
each other in the most simply ardent
fashion. The girl was poor, the young
;ellow had expectations from a wealthy
Seven months Of perfect
followed this union, although
he grandfather saw good TO frown upon
t severely. Then" Mrs Amidon went
IN, folding her hands upon her lap, "the
who was still the lover, lied.
)ne month later the grandfather died
Llso. When his will was read it was
ould that he had bequeathed his proper
y to the issue of his grandsons leaving
o him only modest income. The death
If the grandson had spared him this ex-
PRESTON of iIl-will.
Mrs. Amidon paused again. every
Don after the grandfather's death a
'osthumous child, son, was born to the
Dung widow. He inherited the large
state bequeathed him by this will. The
aother saw for one dim moment the little j
'oy's violet eyes before she relapsed into
state of weakness in which her life was
espaired of. But she rallied, and when
he recovered sense of her surroundings
sked for her child that she might look
or comfort in his fathers eyes. They
old her as gently as they could that he
vas lying by his fathers side in the
of the little church.
Through the death of this short-lived
hid the mother came into full posses
ion of the large fortune which he seemed '
q he We cnrnn only f.. lnr;t nd ,u,s.,;+ | :.