Feliciana sentinel., 1892-09-17
last words, and few niomen:s later
she was mounting the old staircase
lcDiliucr to Nine. Dunrc'S room

Poor as the old lady really wan, bare
as were her surroundings, there was
something about her which had al
ways appealed to something in Ilttlc
Jcn's nature of which she had not be-
fore been conscious. It was the re-
fincment of the sufferer, her delicate
! courtesy, which showed itself in the
way she accepted a kindness or tried tn
extend hospitality, the latter being
ut present only the bright smile and
outstretched hand with which Jen was
| welcomed.
''You are like sunshine to me,
ehcric," the old lady said, as Jcn, ac-
cortling to custom, Invested herself of
hat and gloves and sat down by the in
valid's bedside. She saw ut once \
change in the clear dark face DR..
Byrnes had told her only that morning
the poor lady's hours were numbered,
yet Jenny, strong in youth and health,
felt a keen shock from what she saw ns
proof of his words. Only for a moment.
however. The wan face of the invalid
had such n peaceful, holy calm about It
it was SO content
There are many things have
wanted to say to-day, dear little girl"
Nine. Dupre half whispered II have
thought SO much of what brought me
hereto find some trace of Col. Royet-
sons brother. AS yon know, l only
heard of his death. And now, Jenny.
am going to leave you what I would
have given him. the one wedding pres
ent prepared for my darling Angcliquc.
Alas, it was too late! She was ten
miles away from our plantation. had
but one person to trust with it, an old
negro who was faithful to us through
all l gave it~to him to carry to my
darling with my blessing. Well, her
bctrothed had been killed that day and
a week later she yielded to the dread
full fever raging in New Orleans at the
time. Caspar brought back the cush
ion-only 4 little cushion. chile, but it
shall be yours 1t has been my QUO
meEcnto of that time"
"Dear madame said Jennie, very
gently, "do not think OF what will sad
den YOU"
but it does not" exclaimed the old
lady. softly. "Oh, no; it is my bapp-
ness. Go, my dear, to the chest OF
drawers; or IN the small one: there you
will find it. We had strange ways in
those hard war times" the old lady
continued, as Jcn, firmly convinced
madame was wandering, quietly did
cushion, but it could tell its story"
Jcn opened the small drawer, and
saw, pinned in yellowish piece of
linen, the cushion. Fashioned of faded
blue and white brocadc, edged with
old lace, there was something about il
which appeared to Jen strangely. Tho
old "war days were only history to
eiyhteen-year-oldJ Jcu. aud this cushion,
made OF what had once been Il splendid
fnbric. might have represented revolu-
tionary times rs well as those of the
early sixties. Then it had been meant
for the wedding gift of Angclique, who
was, from madamc's stories. an ideal
creature to the young girl. Jen carried
the old cushion with revercnt fingers
to madamc's bed.
Yours. dearest" nur1nured the old
lady. "All I have to leave you-and
for that have made my will"
Only Jcn and Teddy Barry, and the
people with whom Mime. Dupre
had lodged. followed the old lady to
her grave on the 10th. An hour later
Hiram Dali was at the farmhouse,
with if possible, n more disagreeablc
expression than usual on his face.
Il wish you JOY, Jenny" he said,
with n sncer. "You are the old mad
| me to draw up the will! All for pin
cuShion!''
He tossed it across the table con-
tcnptuo1sly. Jenny could scarcely
| control herself. She felt Us though her
old friends legacy was dcsecrated.
Got Il running string in it, too" con-
| tinucd the cd man. like a bag"
Jenny was looking at the cushion
with wet eyes, She had really loved
| the old Creole lady. Now, as Dali
spoke, she looked under the lace at
one side of Angcliquc's lone wedding
gift" and saw, sure enough, the thin
silken ribbon run in and tied at the
end Her looscning of the knot so
! long ago fastened was almost mcchani-
cal, and thcn--how 10 one present ever
could exactly say, but as the brocadc
drew back out from the sawdust
rolled upon Jenny's lap heap of shin
| ing Jewels, rubics and opals. and bank
notes in what seemed to the girl an
Aladdin like profusion! After all. it
was easily explained. Situated as she
had been. Mmc. Duprc's ono means OF
sending money and the jewels to her
only child had been i'll this fashion.
! No one would suspect old Caspar OF
carving such Il treasure in Il pin
cushion Of f2dcd brocade, and since
Angcliquc's death the sentiment in the
! French woman'S naturc-pcrhaps a
touch of supcrstition-had led her to
keeping it intact. Who can say?
This is n true story. n chapter out OF
the life of one of my friends. who now,
happy mistress of the bonnicst farm
in Connecticut, tells her children the
cushion story" and in L corner cabi
net in her parior the blue and white
brocade and old lace have their cs'
pecial niche. Jenny iudulged i'll nc
mean triumph over old Dali when with
madame's queer legacy she bought