Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1896-05-06


easily it might follow the apology. He
was almost in love with Mile. st. Denys
Godolph when he quilted his planta.
ton. By the time he had reached hers
he was wholly SO.
He was met by Nine. Mere, q sweet
eyed, faded woman, upon whom old age
had fallen too hurriedly to completely
efface all traces of youth. But the house
was old beyond question. Decay had
eaten slowly to the heart of it during
the hours, the days and years that it had
been standing.
II have come to see your daughter,
madam, began Laballiere all to blunt
~, for there is no denying he was blunt.
mile. st. Denys Godolph is not
presently at home, SIR madame re-
piled. "She is at the time in New Or
leans. She fills there place Of high
trus' an employment, NJ. Laballiere {"
When Suzanne had ever thought Of
New Orleans, it was always in connec.
ton with Hector Santien, because he
was the only soul she knew who dweit
there. He had had no share in obtain
ing for her the position she had secured
with one of the leading dry goods firms.
Yet it was to him she addressed herself
when her arrangements to leave home
were completed.
He did not wait for her train to reach
the city, but crossed the river and met
her at Gretna. The first thing he did
was to kiss her, as he had done eight
years before when he left Natchitoches
parish. An hour later he would no more
have thought Of offering to kiss Suzanne
than he would have rendered an en-
brace to the empress of China. For by
that time he had realized that she was
no longer 12 nor he o..
She could hardly believe the man who
met her to be the Hector of old. His
black hair was dashed with gray on the
temples. He woro short, parted beard
and small mustache that curled. From
the crown of his glossy silk hat down
to his trinity gathered feet, his attire was
fauitless. Suzanne knew her Natchi-
toches. and she lad been to Shreveport,
and even penetrated as far US Marshall,
Tex, but III ell her travels she had
never net man to equal Hector in the
elegance Of his mien.
They entered cab, and seemed to
drive for an interminable time through
the streets, mostly over cobblestones
that rendered conversation difficult.
Nevertheless he talked necessarily,
while she peered from the windows to
catch what glimpses she could through
the night of that New Orleans of which
che had heard so much. The sounds
We're bowildering. So were the lights
that were uneven, too, serving to make
the patches of alternating gloom more
mysterious.
She had not thought Of asking him
where he was taking her. And it was
only alter they crossed Canal and had
penetrated some distance into Royal
street, that he told her. He was taking
her to friend of his. the dearest little
woman in town. That was Maman
Chavan, who was going to board and
lodge iler Tor ridiculously small con-
sideration.
Maman Chavan lived within comfort
able walking distance of Canal street,
on one of those narrow, intersecting
streets between Royal and Chartres.
Fer house was tiny, single story one,
with overhangiDg gable. heavily shut
tered door and windows and three wood
ell steps leading down to the banquette.
A small garden ilanked il on one side,
quite screened from outside view by a
high fence, over which appeared the
tops of orange trees and other luxuriaut
shrubbery.
She was waiting for them-a lovable,
fresh locking, white haired, blackeyed,
small, fat little body, dressed all in
black. She understood no English,
which made no difference, for Suzanne
and Hector had spoken but French to
each other.
Hector did not tarry a moment longer
than was needed to place his young
friend and charge in the older woman s
care. dc would nos even stay to take a
bite of supper with them. Maman Cha
van watched him as he hurried down
the steps and out into the gloom. Then
she said to Suzanne, THAT man is an
angel, mademoiselle. IN ange du bon
Dieu.
q
Women, my dear Maman Chavan,
you know how it is with me in regard
to women. I have drawn a circle round
my heart, sc-at pretty long range,
mind you-and there is not one who
gets through it or over it or under it, -
"Blagueur, val" laughed Manan
Chavan, replenishing her glass from the
bottle of sauterne.
1t was Sunday morning. They were
breakfasting altogether en- the pleasant
side gallery that led by single step
down to the garden. Hector came every
Sunday morning, an hour or SO before
noon, to breakfast with them. He al
ways brought bottle of sauterre, a nate,
or mess of artichokes, or some tempt
ing bit of charcuterie. Sometimes he
had towait till the two women returned
from hearing mass at the cathedral. He
did not 60 TO mass himself They were
both making novena on that account
and had even gone to the expense of
burning round dozen of candles before
the good st. Joseph for his conversion.
When Hector accidentally discovered the
e. L.