Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1893-11-24

year. Now and again, when CASTOR was
I'm luck and had made a few francs moro
than his ordinary earnings from the news
papers, he rewarded the little Widows at
tentions by taking her TO theatre, and.gv-
ing her an ice or supper I'm the Passage
Joutfroy before he escorted her home lie
treated her en- grand Seigneltr on these &C.
casons, and these evenings were to Suzon
Michel as nights spent in paradise; hours to
dream about for weeks af Ell they were gone,
TO long for with passionate longing. Yet
they brought her no nearer 10 the man she
loved or to the realisation OF her hopes. Not
q word was ever spoken of love or marriage.
When they parted on the steps of the creIn-
erie, while the bells Of Notre Dame were
Ginning one of the quarters after midnight,
they were as far apart as ever. II she was
ever TO be Madame Mortemar the offer OF
marriage must come from her own lips, SUI
ION thought; and she would not have shrUnk
from telling the man of her choice of those
snug little investments, and her willing
ness to share her economies with him.
Feminine delicacy would not have hindered
such an avOwal; but there was something in
the man himself which sealed her lips.
CASTOR was as cold as ice, as calm as mar
bic. He had that amiable languor Of speech
and manner which clever young men are
apt TO affect, until it becomes a second ma
ture. He talked like man who had lived
through every experience that life could Of
fer to reprOhate youth, who had grown old
in evil before Time had written q wrinkle
on his brow.
''Ah, but he has lived, that youthp' said
the knowing ones Of the quarter HE has
aOhaVaH tha r,atarnnl fortune
es and cocottes, and now he has TO write
for his bread"
The fact was that CASTOR Mortemar had
never had napoleon to bestow upon any
body, for good or evil. He had worked. for
his daily bread ever since he left the. school
of Albert the Great where he had been one
of the brightest pupils of the good Domini-
cans. He had never been rich enough to be
proflgate in grand way: and he wasI too
proud too refined to stoop to cheap vice.
He was, like Alfred de Musset, dandy
born, created with refined tastes and lofty
aspirations; but poverty had embittered
him. He had fed his mind with the writ
ings of Villon and NOltaire and Rousseau,
Theophile Gautier, Musset, Baudelaire, and
Flaubert. He was a cynic to the marrow of
his bones. He tried to surpass Voltaire in
acrimony, Rousseau in discomfort, and LASH
ed himself into fury when he wrote about
the great ones of the earth.
One day he met Kathleen O'Hara in the
morning sunshine, coming in from her
marketing, just as he was going out to
breakfast, with neat gray gown and pale
blue neck-ribbon, and basket of Lettuce
and redishes OH her arm; and he thought he
saw GreuZe that had suddenly become
flesh and blood, and had walked out of It's
frame in the Louvre yonder, across the
shining river. He forgot his good manners,
and turned TO look after her as she crossed
the yard and tripped up the steps of that
house which he had just left. He knew
that two girls occupied one half of the third
story, but they had kept themselves so close
that he had only seen the elder sister, once
in way, on the staircase. Madame Schus
bert was standing in her doorway, scenting
the morning air, and watching the goings
and comings of her neghbors. She and
CASTOR had long been on friendly terms, so
she gave him little nod, and laughed as he
passed her door.
"GenHlle, n'est-ce pas, mon gdrconr she
screamed, in her shrill treble, with tho
Boulevard st. Michel twang.
"GenHllel She is adorable" answered
CASTOR. us it possible that such an angel
inhabits the same dull walls that shelter
me?'
Dangerous, is it not? But she is as good
as she is pretty. A gentlemans daughter
too, though she and her sister have TO work
for their bread, poor orphans. The father
was an Irish captain"
"ITiahg' exclaimed CASTOR, with touch
of surprise.